


Apparently three's a crowd, but I don't just want company.

by keepnon



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Detective AU, Gore, M/M, Multi, Other Relationships to Be Added - Freeform, endgame minchansung
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-16 15:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepnon/pseuds/keepnon
Summary: Chris, a Detective Inspector, woke up thirteen years ago with amnesia. All he has from his former life are small flashes, filled with gruesome murders and a boy with big brown eyes. He tends not to worry too much about what he's missing - he's got the best team, 3Racha, and he's a good detective. Chris, Changbin, and Han are formidable. He couldn't do anything without them.But then Chris is asked to investigate a murder, like he has thousands of times before. But this time, he gets a flashback. He's seen a murder like this before, before he lost his memories. Things only get more twisted when it looks like their murderer isn't working alone. Then he comes face to face with those brown eyes again, and Chris knows that there's no going back.





	1. Inception

_["Starting point."]_

_A sign, an omen, a, a GLITCH._

_Where am I? Who am I? I am not myself._

"Good morning." The empty room made no reply, almost mocking him in its stubborn silence. He rubbed his hand across his eyes, turning his head to the clock on his bedside table. 

_5:30am. _

Right. His shift started at nine. How convenient that his body clock had decided that four hours of sleep was great as a baseline. He groaned and rolled over, burying his head in his pillow. Curse his body clock. The morning light was creeping through his windows, despite his best efforts to cover every hole with scraps of cardboard. To his credit, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to return to the peaceful darkness that had muted his brain. It had been a reprieve from the usual kaleidoscope of night terrors he experienced. He muttered darkly about how he was not liable for any damage he caused while tired. He reminded his brain of his eight-hour shift. He then proceeded to threaten his brain with partial asphyxiation. Finally, he gave up, resorting to silence with a sigh. 

Eventually, the stillness roused him. A monologue consisting of several choice curses and self-pity filled his apartment. It was interjected by his morning routine of caffeinating his body until he could function, resisting the urge to slip out the door in search of a nicotine fix. He knew his partners would kill him if he gave in to that particular habit. Gradually the hours began to drag by, allowing him precious – if dangerously consuming – time with himself. Chris hated coffee, but he forced himself to drink it. He was a cop, after all, and if he could survive coffee, he could survive the streets. He was growing more and more restless as the days went on. Nothing ever seemed to happen on his current shift. In his region, the real bread and butter of his work was conducted under the moonlight. Humans had a primitive instinct to conduct their sins in the dark. They were like rats, scampering through their burrows, looking for their next meal. 

Of course, as a detective, he was forced to work during the day. Sometimes Chris wished that he was a vampire. He always preferred to sleep during the day, anyway. Still, there was a line that had to be toed. He had to keep to his side of the law, even if he didn’t always agree with it. Sometimes being a detective wasn’t so black and white. Sometimes it wasn’t even shades of grey – sometimes it was red and confronting, other times unremarkable, like beige. But Chris didn’t regret his career choice. Not yet, anyway. 

His coffee had grown cold as he had sat lost in thought, but he gulped it down anyway, far too used to the taste to grimace. As he rose to his feet, he tried to ignore his protesting muscles. Sometimes he missed being on the field instead of being behind a desk. It had seemed simple, really. Wake up. Break up fights, throw people in cells, get praised and slandered in equal measure by the very people he was trying to protect. Go home to a dark and cold apartment. Sleep. Repeat. He pulled on his uniform, all of it black. It was what he liked about being a detective – the plainclothes. Chris had almost lost track of how many years he’d been a detective. It seemed like far too many. 

There was a knock on the door, and Chris jumped. He hurried to button up his shirt before opening the door to a grinning Han Jisung. Chris slung his scarf around his neck and hurried to shut the door behind him. Han was a Detective Constable and had been partnered with Chris for several years. He was always first to greet Chris in the morning and the last one to see him off. They’d been that way ever since Chris, then a Detective Sergeant, had pushed for Han to be made a constable. No one had known why, at first. Chris had been sent on an excursion around the district, looking for any promising or senior officers that were looking to become detectives. 

Of course, being a DS, he’d attracted the attention of the younger officers. Some of them only had a couple of years under their belt as PCs. Chris knew he had quite a threatening aura when he was working. He’d scared most of them away. Most had just shaken his hand before darting away to watch from afar. But Han had approached him, clearly intimidated, with his head held high anyway. He’d been a mousy young man back then. But he’d stood in front of Chris, bombarding him with questions. Chris had later looked over Han’s scores. Han didn’t excel in one particular area – he seemed to be good at _everything. _Chris had gone to his superiors, saying he knew it was a bit uncouth to recruit a detective so young, but that he was _certain _Han would excel in their unit. His superiors had been unsure, but Chris had shown them Han’s scores, had told them about Han’s interest and sharp attention to detail. A month later, Han had shown up at Chris’ desk, stumbling over _thank you, thank you, thank you, _until Chris had put a finger to his lips and winked at him. 

“Hey, man, you look…” Chris couldn’t help but grin at him, despite Han’s concern. Seeing Han in the morning was always refreshing. He enjoyed their commute together. Chris knew that he should probably start curbing his excitement so that he didn’t weird Han out, but he couldn’t help it. After a shit night’s sleep, seeing Han was like a breath of fresh air.

"Awful?” Chris offered, laughing at Han’s sheepish nod. “Seems like my body has decided four hours of sleep is good enough.” Han frowned at this. 

“Maybe time to knock off a bit earlier, yeah?” Han patted his shoulder as Chris locked the door behind him. “Or take it easy for a little bit.” 

“What alternative universe are you living in?” Chris laughed. “Come on, let’s go. You know Binnie will eat us alive if we’re late.” Han had been one of Chris’ first real friends. Before he’d met Han, Chris had only had Woojin and Changbin. Woojin had been Chris’ only friend in the academy. He’d been the first one to discover the truth of Chris’ past. Thirteen years ago, Chris remembered waking up in a filthy drain, in a city he didn’t recognise, covered in blood and muck. His clothes had been ripped and torn, he was delirious and feverish, and he had no memories to speak of. His first real memory was of staring up at a clear and serene blue sky, which soothed the blinding pain and confusion he had felt. Then he’d passed out. The next thing he knew, he was being poked and prodded by doctors and confined to a hospital bed. 

At most, all he'd regained were flashes, which were twisted and obscured by shadows. Some were clear, but only gave him small snippets of information. Without context, they meant nothing to him. He had blinding headaches, but nothing else. He'd maintained the ability to read and write, which the neurologists had told him was a part of the retrograde amnesia. It seemed that there were some things that the brain did not forget, like tying his shoelaces or putting letters into words, then putting those words into sentences. But here he was now, thirteen years later, still none the wiser as to who he was or where he'd come from. All that remained of his previous life were scars adorning his neck. Over time, they’d faded so that they were barely visible. But Chris still had a habit of wearing a scarf at work, or a hoodie if he was off-duty. He'd been involved with the police force from the very start. When he was still a teenager, he’d been obsessed with trying to find out who he was. But now, walking next to Han, who was chattering away next to him, Chris couldn’t help but smile. He cared less about who he was and more about who was now. He _belonged _here. 

Woojin had been the first one to calm Chris down after a nightmare until Chris had learned how to control his screams and keep himself quiet. Woojin had been the one to kneel next to Chris, rubbing his back as a headache kept him pinned to the floor. Woojin and Chris had been Detective Constables together, assigned to the same senior officer. Woojin had been Chris’ first love – it had been unrequited, Chris had always figured. He’d eventually given up on his feelings. If he was being honest, he still nursed a little soft spot for Woojin. But the flames were gone. Woojin and Chris had fought hard to be promoted. The countless extra hours Chris had put in, combined with his hours at home obsessing over a case, had meant he’d solved cases quickly. Soon he found other detectives were asking him for advice, and he was assisting other detectives with their cases. Chris had been reassigned, partnered with a constable of his own – Seo Changbin. 

Changbin and Chris had clicked instantly. Chris liked Changbin’s dark sense of humour and loved any off chance he had to hear Changbin’s real giggle. Chris would doggedly follow a case until it was done, often forgoing sleep for several days. He was good at looking at a case holistically, but often missed small details. Changbin, meanwhile, was _extremely _good with details, but would often get stuck in them. They balanced each other out well. They’d made a great team. So much so, that both of them had been promoted. Chris almost been poached by another station. The promotion meant had been a way of keeping Chris from moving – not that he was complaining. He hadn’t wanted to leave Changbin behind, after all the years they’d spent together. 

That was when Han had joined them. Han had finished his training, which had taken a gruelling two years. Now that Chris had become a DI himself, he’d gotten assigned a constable. Chris would never forget the way that Han’s eyes had lit up when he’d been told he was getting reassigned to Chris. Together, the three had become a formidable team. Han was insightful and good at seeing the whole picture, like Chris, but also had Changbin’s knack for incorporating details. He did tend to be quite spontaneous and was prone to acting without thinking. Jokingly, after a round of drinks at the local bar, Changbin had coined a name for them – 3Racha. It had stuck, to the point that whenever the three of them were required for a case, even their superiors would ask for 3Racha. 

“You alright, Chris?” Chris ran straight into Han, stumbling back as he was jerked from his thoughts. Han held him at arm’s length, searching his face. “You’re out of it today, man.” Chris wet his lips with his tongue, trying to ignore the way that Han’s eyes followed the movement. Han’s voice was gentle, and soft. It made Chris’ heart melt a little. 

“Just thinking.” He admitted. Han raised an eyebrow at this, and Chris heaved an exaggerated sigh. “About you, actually.” Han flushed bright red. Chris tried not to smirk. Sometimes it was hard to ignore the effect he seemed to have on Han. Chris had first chalked it up to hero-worship. As the years had gone on and they’d become friends, Chris had just continued to wave it off. It was implausible to him that Han would have feelings towards him. Besides, Han was a catch. He was intelligent, well-groomed, funny, and had an incredible smile. Then there was Chris, who always showed up with a wrinkled shirt and bed hair, who poured his life into his work – so much so that he barely saw the outside world unless he was out on a case. Yeah. That just screamed emotionally unavailable. Han deserved better than that. 

“O-oh.” Han was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. “C-cool. Yeah. Uh. Cool. We should – go.” Han turned on his heel, pulling Chris along with him, muttering about being late. But Chris just smiled. His constable could be so cute sometimes. 

* * *

As soon as they stepped foot into the station, Han knew something was off. It was oddly quiet. Usually the station was bustling by now. Han felt himself begin to tense. He felt a hand land on his shoulder and looked up to see Chris smiling at him. 

“Come on, Hannie.” Chris murmured. “Let’s find Binnie.” The two hurried up the stairs, practically taking them two at a time. While the rest of the station had seemed like it was on lockdown, the homicide department was chaos. Standing in the midst of it all was Changbin. He had a scowl on his face and was barking at two constables. 

“Oh, _fuck.” _Han hissed, and he watched as Chris’ brows creased together in confusion. “That’s Hyunjin and Seungmin.” It had been years since he’d seen the pair. Seungmin he hadn’t minded. They’d gotten along well, at times. Han knew that one day Seungmin would be one to rise fast through the ranks. But Hyunjin and Han had always been rivals. It was always a race to see who could run the fastest, get the best scores, or solve the most cases in training. Hyunjin had always just been behind Han. When Chris had come to the station that day, Hyunjin had tried so hard to impress him. But in the end, it was Han who had gained Chris’ attention, without really seeming to try. Hyunjin had always gone on and on about his dream to one day become a detective. Han had felt a little guilty about taking that away from him. Eventually, he'd realised that if Chris had seen enough potential in Hyunjin, he would’ve picked Hyunjin instead. Hyunjin and Han had had one last confrontation on Han’s last day as a uniformed officer. Hyunjin had cornered him, jabbing a finger into his chest, demanding to know how he’d blackmailed Chris, one of the best up and coming detectives. Han had, quite childishly, told him that Hyunjin should fuck off, because he was destined to always be second. Han desperately hoped that Hyunjin didn’t remember that little comment. 

“Should I know them?” Chris rubbed his jaw, his eyes sparking with curiosity. Han winced. There was no way he’d be able to avoid this one. 

“They were in my year at the academy.” He began, and Chris raised an eyebrow. “Hyunjin was mad when I got moved to CID.” Han murmured. He jumped when he felt Chris’ hand resting gently on the small of his back. Han felt his breath stutter in his throat at the close contact. He looked at up Chris, who smiled sweetly at him, a smile he seemed to reserve only for Han. If he had Chris next to him, he knew he’d be fine. Then Chris leaned down and began whispering in Han’s ear. 

“Good thing no one messes with my constable except for me, hey?” Han _squeaked _at this and he felt a wave of heat rushing through his body. He almost choked on his spit. Chris chuckled, ruffling his hair. 

“Come on, looks like Binnie’s already reined them in enough. I think they have more than you to be worried about, Han.” Han nodded dumbly, still trying to recover. He watched as Chris slid his hands into his pockets and strode over to Changbin. Han trailed behind him, trying to inconspicuously take deep breaths to still his racing heart. “Morning.” Chris flashed the three men before him an easy smile. Changbin’s scowl faded a little, and he gave Chris a nod. “I haven’t seen you two around before.” Chris turned to Hyunjin and Seungmin. Han watched as Seungmin’s mouth dropped. Hyunjin, meanwhile, pulled himself up to his full height, flashing Chris an easy smile. Chris returned with one of his own, almost lazily. Han crossed his fingers – and toes, for good measure – trying to hide behind Chris’ muscular frame. 

“Inspector, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Hyunjin practically _purred_, and Han found himself bristling. He shot Hyunjin a glare from where he lurked behind Chris. Chris had come out to Han and Changbin about a year after they’d all been partnered together. Han had _loathed _how his heart had filled with hope at the news. He’d always nursed a soft spot for Chris, but it had grown to a full-blown crush when his treacherous brain made him think he’d actually have a chance. Lately, Han had allowed himself to think that maybe Chris wasn’t so far out of reach after all. There were the small smiles he delegated only to Han, and the way he was so excited to see Han show up at his doorstep every morning. It was in the way he casually slung his arm over Han’s shoulders, or would never fail to treat Han cheesecake if 3Racha solved a case. Seeing Hyunjin so blatantly trying to lay claim to who Han had been chasing after for half a decade made his blood boil. 

“Nice to meet you – I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” Chris was gauging Hyunjin with interest, and Han felt jealousy curl in his stomach. Han suddenly felt self-conscious. Hyunjin had looked good in a uniform, but he looked even better in a suit. He wasn’t wearing his tie – Han could see it poking out of his pocket. His top button was undone. Hyunjin looked good, and he knew it. And Han…well, he absolutely hated it. He knew _he’d _never manage to look that good. But Hyunjin looked almost as good as Chris. And no one would _ever _look better than Chris did in a suit. In Han’s mind, anyway. 

“Detective Constable Hwang Hyunjin, Inspector.” Chris held out his hand for Hyunjin to shake. 

“I’d introduce myself, but I’m guessing you know who I am.” Hyunjin clasped Chris’ hand with both of his, and Han rolled his eyes as he saw Hyunjin lower his lashes. Such blatant flirting, with a _senior _officer, no less. Only Hyunjin would be able to get away with it. Han didn’t have the guts for it. All he could do was grumble to himself. 

“Of course, Inspector, I’d never forget a face like yours.” Han knew that if anyone looked at him, it was obvious that he was sulking. It was Hyunjin’s first day on the job, and he’d already managed to get under Han’s skin. Changbin coughed into his hand, and Chris blinked owlishly at him. 

“Tell me, Hyunjin, why were you bothering my sergeant? He seemed a little…pressed.” Han felt like high-fiving Chris in that moment. He made sure to get a good look at Hyunjin’s face as the smirk slid right off it. 

“These two were wandering around like a gaggle of lost geese.” Changbin muttered darkly, and a hint of fear crept onto Hyunjin’s face. “It was _embarrassing. _I was telling them to find something to do before I kick them out for making me cross-eyed.”

_“Ah._” Chris hummed in thought. “Well, boys, first day on the job. Can’t get to anything too exciting just yet.” Changbin grunted in agreement. “Unless…” Changbin groaned at this, crossing his arms over his chest. Han narrowed his eyes in confusion. He didn’t miss the way Chris’ mouth was quirked at one corner. “Who are you partnered with, constables?”

“Detective Inspector Kim, sir.” That was Seungmin’s voice. Chris grinned at this. 

“Excellent! There are some files I’m sure he’d love for you to look over…” Han had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from laughing. He watched as understanding dawned on Changbin’s face. Changbin was pretty much shaking, trying not to laugh. “It was a pleasure meeting you, constables. If you just go and see Woojin, and tell him I sent you, he’ll understand.” Chris patted Hyunjin’s back, giving him a little push. Seungmin and Hyunjin pretty much tripped over themselves to go and find Woojin. 

“See you soon, Inspector!” Hyunjin turned to shoot Chris a wink before hurrying after Seungmin. Han pouted again. Maybe if he was that smooth and confident with his words, Chris would fall for him in no time. 

“That was actually pretty smart.” Changbin gave Chris a high-five, grinning at him. “Get someone to do our paperwork for us? Genius.” Chris smiled lazily at him. 

“Don’t flatter me too much, Binnie.” Chris pushed his hair back. “You know how much you hate it when I get cocky.” Changbin snorted. Chris turned to Han, his smile blinding. 

“Well? Did I do a good job protecting you?” Han just blinked at him for a moment. Then it dawned on him. Chris could’ve just sent them away, probably putting Hyunjin in a bad mood. Hyunjin probably would have noticed Han and tried to dig into him. This way, even if Hyunjin did run into Han later, all Han had to do was drop Chris’ name and Hyunjin would leave him alone. And, as Changbin had pointed out, less paperwork. All earlier jealousy Han had felt was thrown out of the window as Chris ruffled his hair. 

“Inspector.” Han turned to find Chief Superintendent Ivory beckon to Chris. The smile was instantly wiped from Chris’ face. His rank was never usually used in the station. Everyone was on a first-name basis unless something was wrong. The Superintendent looked grim. “Can I borrow you for a moment?” 

“Of course, sir.” Han looked between the two men, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. Chris clapped a hand onto his shoulder and nodded to Changbin before striding over to the Superintendent, slipping into his office. 

“What do you think that was about?” Changbin had an eyebrow raised. Han thought back to his earlier feeling of unease. Something wasn’t right. He just knew it.

* * *

“Have a seat, Chris.” Chris slid into one of the plush chairs at his superior’s desk. Chris began to jiggle his leg, anxious to find out why he’d been called in by himself. Usually Changbin and Han went with him. This was new.

“Everyone else is busy with their own cases. I’ve known you long enough to trust your judgment. And this case…you’re going to need a good team.” Chris watched as his superior ran a hand through his hair. The other man looked pale. Chris felt his heartbeat begin to pick up. “We all know 3Racha is becoming one of the best.” Chris couldn’t help but smile at this. He would be endlessly proud of Han and Changbin, and how far they had come.

“My partners and I can handle it, no matter what.” Chris pushed his shoulders back. He was confident in his team. The older man offered him a pained smile. “Sir – Superintendent Ivory – we can _do _this.” 

“See for yourself.” A manila folder was pushed towards him. Chris didn’t hesitate to flip open the folder. His eyes widened. The pictures were horrific. He hadn’t seen a case this bad in a while. A man was lying prone on the ground, bloodstained and broken. It was nothing Chris hadn’t seen before. But there were odd marks on the victim’s arms and neck. “Rupert Tailor. Thirty-nine. Most average man you could ever hope to meet. Body was discovered last night at eleven, by one of our favourite local boys.” Chris sighed at this. Probably another dealer they had to throw away as they’d given the police useful information. At this rate, the prisons would all be empty. As Chris flipped through to the closeups of the body, he felt his stomach begin to churn as he realised what he was seeing. _Bite _marks. From human teeth. Chris looked up at Ivory, eyes wide. “He was stabbed. He bled out.” Chris winced at this. “And then…well, I’m sure you can guess what happened next.” 

The Superintendent turned his computer screen to Chris, pressing play on a piece of footage. “Unfortunate that a civilian had to witness this in order to get the video.” The video began with camera fixed on the ground, then loud, heavy breathing – probably the witness. Then Chris narrowed his eyes. There was an odd noise in the background. He leaned forward, straining to work out what it was. It was a peculiar noise: a muffled, wet panting, occasionally punctuated by something like lips smacking together. It sounded like someone was eating. He tensed. As the witness drew closer to the sound, Chris recognised the body of the victim instantly. But that wasn’t what was catching attention. A wave of nausea and pure, unadulterated disgust washed over him. A scrawny man, his hair greasy and unkempt, was tearing at the skin on Tailor’s arm. The Superintendent paused the video. “That’s pretty much where it stops.” Chris looked down at the folder again. 

“With…all due respect, sir. You don’t really need me for this. You have your guy. You just need to find him. You could get a team of good constables for that, maybe some sergeants.” Wordlessly, the Superintendent motioned for Chris to go through the photos again. Chris sifted through them. It was all bitemarks or knife wounds, or…his eyes narrowed. One of the photos was of a closeup of Tailor’s thigh. It looked like something had been carved into the flesh. For some reason, it seemed…oddly familiar. Chris sat back in his chair and whistled softly. 

“See it?” 

“It’s…a letter. G, right?” Chris pushed his hair back and bit down on his lip. Just when he’d thought his life was starting to get simple. “I wonder what it means.” 

“I don’t know if he’d be coherent enough to have the time or motor function for something like that.” The Superintendent continued. “All of the other wounds are sloppy. There’s no way he would be so clumsy, leaving his DNA everywhere, carelessly getting seen, and then decide he’d have time to do some calligraphy.” Finally, it was beginning to dawn on Chris. 

“You think this is part of something bigger.” Chris murmured. “You think our guy is taking the fall for the real rat?” 

“If I’m right, he’s no rat.” The Superintendent’s eyes flashed. “He’s a snake.” Chris’ mind was fixed on the image in front of him. He _knew _that from somewhere. Why did he know it? “Chris, I want you to go back to the crime scene. Go from there. If we find nothing, fine, we got our guy. But this stinks.” Chris nodded. His head was beginning to throb. 

“Of course, sir.” He gathered up the photos and the rest of the files, tucking the folder under his arm. Chris swallowed hard. He got to his feet, digging his fingers into the chair to give himself some support. He felt nauseous. “I’ll report to you in a couple of days.” With that, he pretty much rushed out of the door. Chris felt like he was in a trance as he made his way over to his partners. His head felt like it was swimming. Han immediately got to his feet, reaching out to put a hand on Chris’ shoulder. 

“Chris?” Usually Chris considered himself quite good at concealing his emotions. This time, though, he was shaken. 

“My office.” He muttered. He felt like he was swimming through treacle as he trudged towards his office. Chris waited until his partners were seated before shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the door, taking a deep breath. He wiped cold sweat off his forehead. He knew he was on the verge of a flashback. Mostly, he'd space out for a while. But this one was bad. He hadn't felt this bad in years. 

“Chris?” That was Han again. Chris made a strangled noise as he sank to his knees, his vision going black. 

_A young man, his eyes missing from their sockets, with a ‘G’ carved into his chest. Chris was so scared. So confused. Who could have done this? He started shaking. The stench of blood was thick in the air. He could almost taste it. He heard screaming. Who was screaming? Was he the one screaming? _ _ His vision was fading in and out. _

_“Shh…” A soft voice flowed through his ears as a young boy pulled him into a hug. The boy began to stroke Chris’ hair. But all Chris could think of was the corpse. “It’s alright, I’m here. You’re safe.” Chris finally melted into the embrace, burying his face into the boy’s neck. _

Chris woke up Changbin’s ear on his chest and Han’s hands cupping his face. He struggled to sit up, pushing his partners off him. He was breathing hard, his heartbeat loud in his ears. 

“You’re alive!” Han seemed to be forcing himself not to give Chris a hug. Changbin gave Chris a _look, _and Chris knew that the sergeant had sensed that Chris had had another flashback. 

“Sorry – I – I was just really tired.” He shook his head, desperately trying to clear it. He blinked rapidly. Was that…a memory? He’d seen the boy in his dreams before. Chris had always just figured that they were dreams, but it would be too great of a coincidence. He felt a chill run down his spine. If this had happened before, then that meant there would be a pattern. And there he was, probably with the all the answers, but they were locked away inside his head. Or worse – gone entirely. 

“Chris, what the fuck happened with Ivory?” That was Changbin, snapping him out of his thoughts. Chris felt like his head was about to explode. 

“The new case.” He whispered. He picked up the folder, which had fallen to the floor, and thrust it at Changbin. “It…brought up some things.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “How much do you know about my amnesia, Hannie?” Han’s eyes widened, and Changbin muttered a string of curses under his breath.

“Are more memories coming back?” Han’s voice was low. Chris nodded, numb. He reached out to gently ruffle Han’s hair. 

“Help me up, someone.” In the end, both of them helped him to his feet, and to his desk. When they were all sitting again, Chris buried his head in his hands. “Sometimes…some memories come back. All the dizzy spells I’ve had, or when I’ve had to disappear suddenly – it’s probably because of a flashback. The doctors don’t know if my memories will ever fully come back, but sometimes I get small snippets. They can be triggered by scenery, or smells, or similar events.” He swallowed down a lump in his throat. He shifted uncomfortably, realising how eerily similar the corpse in his memory was to Tailor. 

“I’m sorry.” Han murmured, and Chris merely shook his head. 

“Usually I just feel out of it. I haven’t passed out like that in maybe…two years?” He shook his head and sighed. “It’s probably because I’m tired.” He knew that Changbin wasn’t buying his excuses one bit. Chris took the folder back from Changbin, opening it and spreading the photos out across their desk. Han was biting down on his bottom lip, while Changbin’s eyes were running over the images slowly, eager to absorb every detail. A soft gasp left Han’s lips. “Meet our new victim. Rupert Tailor.” 

“They’ve already got the guy. Video footage. DNA, of course, in the saliva.” Chris told him, and Han just nodded. 

“So…we have a lot of evidence to work with.” Han began, sounding confused. “I don’t get what there is for us to solve.” 

“It’s all got to do with this, I’m guessing?” Changbin was jabbing a finger at the image of the _G _carved onto Tailor’s thigh. Han leaned forward, eyes wide. 

“Exactly. Ivory doesn’t think it’s quite so cut and dry. Even if it’s a dead-end, he wants it investigated.” There was a pause. 

“Chris…are you sure you’re alright?” Han’s voice was small. He seemed a bit overwhelmed by all of the information. Chris knew he was probably having conflicting emotions. Han was torn between caring about Chris, his friend, and getting into detective mode. 

“Spit it out.” Changbin’s voice was soft. “I know there’s something else.” 

“See that mark, on Tailor’s leg?” Han’s jaw dropped as Chris pointed it out to him. Changbin’s dark eyes had become stormy. “I’ve seen it before.” Changbin’s face went white. Chris didn’t want to admit it, but seeing Changbin’s face, he just couldn’t rid himself of the possibility… 

“That was the flashback you had, wasn’t it?” Chris should have anticipated this. Changbin was an expert at picking up on details. Adding to that, he was extremely intelligent. Of course this wasn’t going to slip past the sergeant. “You’re involved in this, somehow.” Changbin ran a hand through his hair. “It can’t be a coincidence. You wake up from a traumatic brain injury with amnesia, unable to remember who attacked you. Then this happens. A bizarre murder with a side order of cannibalism. And you _remember _something about it.” 

“I hate coincidences too, Binnie.” Chris laughed, but it felt hollow. “We need to suit up and go to the crime scene.” He could have breathed a sigh of relief as he felt himself slipping back into his work mode. As Inspector, he was firm, cool, and collected. He could do this. He _had _to. “Binnie, tell Woojin that we need his constables to do some door-to-door for us. Any other DCs that we can spare. I want to know what happened in every house, every second of the last forty-eight hours before Tailor’s death. We’ll meet you outside.” Changbin nodded, striding towards the door. 

“You haven’t heard the last of this, Chris.” He called over his shoulder. “I’m going to worry about you one way or another.” Chris smiled wryly at this. He knew that Woojin would probably aid Changbin in hounding Chris for answers. As soon as Changbin so much as said the word ‘flashback’, Woojin would be on high alert. 

“Hannie, with me.” Han didn’t move. He was staring at his hands. “Han, come on.” Chris was impatient to get going, to forget about the mess in his brain for a little while.

“Chris…do you think you’re in danger?” Chris’ heart stopped for a moment. He swallowed hard. He could tell Han the truth – that he was shit scared, and he didn’t know what he was going to find. But he was the Inspector. He was the leader. He had to make sure Han didn’t feel like he was following a broken compass. So he flashed Han a weak smile. 

“I don’t know yet. Good thing I have you to protect me.” Han seemed to sense that Chris wouldn’t be broaching the subject anymore and got to his feet. 

“What, from Hyunjin?” This made Chris laugh for real. 

“I thought he was going to try and eat me alive.” Chris tapped his chin, smirking. “I mean, not that I’d mind.” Han glared at him, giving him a little shove. 

“Don’t start,” Han whined. “Now I need to bleach my brain, thanks, Chris.” 

“You’re welcome, Hannie.” Chris swung his leather jacket over his shoulder and stepped out into the unknown.

* * *

“That’s a lot of blood,” Changbin commented. Chris surveyed the street, whistling softly. 

“I hate to say it, but I’d say the poor bloke’s dead.” Han looked at him and rolled his eyes. 

“Every time, Chris, really?” Han glared at Changbin, who was giggling. “Don’t encourage him, Binnie.” He watched as his partners high-fived. “I’m the youngest, yet I feel like I’m babysitting. This is the _worst._” Han began to survey the ground. Not much was left of the crime scene. The SOCOs had already been and gone. He couldn’t see any obvious security cameras. They were in the backstreets. Here, everyone kept to themselves, and they hated cops. It explained why the street was so quiet. Han crouched down, surveying the area for any obvious entry and exit points the killer could have come from. Their culprit had probably struck with the element of surprise. 

“There, Hannie.” That was Changbin, who had realised what he was looking for. Han’s gaze flicked to where Changbin was pointing – a narrow alleyway, obscured by shadows. Han nodded and put his hand on the gun at his waist. He made his way over to the alley, Changbin hot on his heels. Han peered down the alleyway, his eyes narrowed in thought. 

“Seems logical he could’ve been hiding here.” Han rubbed his chin in thought.

“Look.” Changbin was kneeling. There was a jacket discarded on the ground. Changbin pulled a pair of gloves out of a packet he kept in his coat. “Might match our guy.” Changbin began rifling through the pockets, his eyes flashing as he pulled out a tattered wallet and a few scraps of paper. Changbin offered Han a pair of gloves. Han hurried to pull them on, taking the scraps paper carefully. His face twisted in confusion. 

“Changbin.” He murmured. “We’re on Ale Street, aren’t we?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“One of the notes says, ‘Ale Street, G, seventy-two degrees.’ What do you think it means?” Han heard Changbin’s sharp intake of breath. 

“It means Ivory was right. There’s something more to this than just an attack. Sounds like orders, doesn’t it?” Han swore under his breath and began looking at the other notes. 

“Changbin, I think we’re going to have some more victims on our hands.” Changbin jolted to his feet, reading the notes for himself. 

“Fuck – Palm Avenue. That’s north.” 

“It’s a different letter, too. S. And ten degrees.”

“Maybe it’s to spell something out.” Changbin was nibbling on his bottom lip. “Coordinates, maybe?” Han shrugged. 

“Must be a weird map they’re using, then. We’re East, not West. But there’s another one. Tarren Road. P. One hundred and three degrees.” Han ran a hand through his hair desperately trying to figure it out. 

“I think we need to call the station, send a team out to these places. Code Red on this guy. We need to get him in before he kills someone else.” Changbin pushed his hair back and sighed. 

“Anything in the wallet?” Changbin shook his head and sighed. 

“It’s empty.” Han pursed his lips together. 

“Couple of stakeouts wouldn’t hurt.” Changbin was nodding at his words.

“If the guy who got Tailor did this, I’d be surprised.” Changbin was pulling his bottom lip back and forth through his teeth. “I mean, we saw the wounds. It was really sloppy. _And _he got caught on video. Doesn’t scream criminal mastermind to you, does it?” 

“We still need to get him, though,” Han muttered. “Whether he’s behind this or just the lackey, he’s still going to hurt more people. 

“We’ve got a start, though. I’ll get Chris to –” Changbin was looking around, brows drawn together in confusion. “Wait – where the fuck is Chris?” Changbin looked around. Han felt a chill run down his spine. Changbin looked worried. If Changbin was concerned, Han knew that he should be scared. “It isn’t like him to go off without telling us.” Changbin’s eyes were narrowed. “Usually it’s us chasing after you.” Changbin attempted a smile. The joke fell flat as the tension in the air began to rise further. “Han, go and look for him while I call this in.” Han was already moving by the time Changbin finished his sentence. If Chris was in danger and got hurt, Han didn’t know what he’d do with himself.

* * *

Chris had watched Han and Changbin make their way over to the alleyway and had decided to look around as well. He wanted to know where their perp had made his escape. It had to be somewhere that was discrete, while still leading back to the city centre. He could’ve been anywhere by now. Chris dug his hands into his pockets, striding over to a storm drain. He couldn’t help but smile. Easy. Of course he would’ve escaped underground. Now all Chris had to do was to find a manhole cover that had been displaced. There were several alleys and lanes that branched off of Ale Street, none of them really big enough to warrant a manhole cover. Chris rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension. It wouldn’t hurt to use some cadaver dogs. That way they could find where the killer had surfaced from the underground. But there was a chance that he was still lurking underground. 

That was when Chris saw a shadow flash by in his periphery. He whirled around. All he could see were Changbin and Han, still investigating the alley. Chris bit down on his lip, taking one last look at them before hurrying down the closest street. He stuck to the walls, trying to keep his breathing shallow and soft. He surveyed the street. He’d seen something – _someone. _It was probably just a kid or something, hiding from the police like they’d been taught, but he felt uneasy. Chris kept his back to the wall as he rounded the corner, coming face to face with another man. Chris’ eyes widened and he flinched back. The man in front of him was dressed from head to toe in black. He was wearing a leather harness, which was lined with knife sheaths. The man’s face was hidden by a hood. Chris fumbled in his pocket for his badge.

“Police.” Chris began. “Who –” The stranger rushed forwards before Chris had enough time to even blink, slamming his back into the wall. Chris’ gaze locked with a pair of angry brown eyes. He felt a strange flicker of recognition and his brows drew together in confusion. The man was slim, but lean, and quite strong. Chris struggled for breath as an arm was dug into his windpipe. He struggled back against his attacker, gripping the man’s bicep to shove him away. Then a knife pricked against his stomach and he froze, realising it would be useless to move. He managed to painstakingly turn his head towards his attacker’s face. There were those brown eyes again. They were cold but, strangely, he didn’t feel afraid. Suddenly the eyes widened and began to travel over his face. Chris hardly dared to breathe. 

"Chan." The whisper fell from the stranger's lips, and he shoved the hood off his head. He had a youthful face that was unblemished, save for two long scars beginning at his chin and running down his neck. He had a gash on his left cheekbone. Chris had a strange urge to gently run his finger over the other’s man cheek. "_Channie." _The young man repeated, as if he was praying. He looked like he was in shock. He removed his arm from Chris’ neck, instead cupping his jaw, his fingers gently ghosting over Chris’ face. Chris’ eyes travelled over the stranger’s face. He was stunning. Chris was awestruck. Then the knife clattered to the ground, breaking the spell. Chris’ eyes widened as he realised how close he’d been to being fatally stabbed. He knew better than to move – he’d seen the array of knives that the stranger had strapped to his harness. Chris barely dared to breathe, his jaw almost creaking from the amount of force he was putting into keep it shut. Finally, the other man paused. "Chan?" Questioning, this time. "It's me, Minho." The words were a hushed whisper, and Chris was hit by another wave of confusion. 

"I-I'm sorry." He swallowed, feeling a stab of guilt as he saw how affronted his new acquaintance looked. "I don't know who either of those people are." The stranger – _Minho, _Chris noted – froze. 

"What do you mean?" The soft brown eyes that had just been filled with so much relief and joy had frozen over, becoming cold again. "Are you not Bang Chan?" There was now stormy anger in those once-warm depths, and Chris fought the urge to cower. He lifted his chin and pulled himself up to his full height. Minho was looking at him expectantly, and he was scowling, clearly unimpressed. "Well?!" Minho demanded, eyes flashing. 

"My name is Chris." The detective offered, dropping his gaze from Minho’s. 

"You look just like him – older, but that's expected, he'd have changed over time." Minho was mumbling to himself, but Chris froze. 

"Wait – are you looking for him? This – this _Chan?_" Another pang of recognition at the name. For some reason his stomach was sinking. Minho nodded, tapping his fingers against the wall. "Gone?" Chris’ voice sounded hollow to his own ears. Minho nodded again, clearly growing impatient. "For how long?" Chris was on autopilot. He didn't know how to react. It _couldn't_ be. There was no way someone was looking for him _now. _But he felt hope treacherously rise within him. Minho was looking at him like he'd gone mad. "How long?" Chris repeated, stronger this time. 

"For thirteen years." Minho intoned, and Chris felt all the blood drain from his face. He gripped the wall behind him for support. "Why does it matter?" Minho seemed to be out of patience. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you alright?" His voice was without compassion, but he sounded curious. Chris remembered the newcomer's fingers gently brushing his skin. It made him wonder how much this Chan man meant to Minho. But thirteen years...it was too close for comfort. Chris had arrived in London with no name, no past, _nothing. _He’d arrived with a woman that he’d been told was his mother. He’d been told his name was Chris, and that he’d suffered a horrific accident. Over time, Chris had regained some memories of his childhood, but they were muted. He just remembered living in Australia with his mother, and even that was fuzzy. 

But he vaguely remembered another place. Sometimes he remembered faces, and voices, but never anything concrete. No one knew of him. His mother kept claiming that she’d lost his birth certificate, and she always seemed to be in the process of getting him documents of identification. Getting his driver’s license had been a nightmare. Going into training had been even worse. As far as Chris knew, he was a nobody. He’d tried looking for himself in databases, even trying to reach out to other countries to see if they had any evidence of him. Nothing. But Minho recognised him. That was too great of a coincidence to be pure chance. 

"I arrived here thirteen years again." Chris’ throat was dry. Minho’s eyes widened at his words. "No memories to speak of, not even a name..." He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him so he reached out and clutched Minho’s shoulder. "All I remember is waking up and thinking that I was going to die. I thought I'd _already _died. And then…_nothing._" Chris felt as if he was going to pass out. The ice in Minho's eyes melted and he stepped closer, offering support. Once more there was that gentle expression on his face. Chris just couldn't figure him out. 

"Do you recognise me?" Minho murmured, and Chris raked his eyes over Minho’s face, trying to remember something – _anything_. But all he got was just the sense that _somehow_ he knew the other man. 

"I feel like I know you, but that's all." The bitter disappointment that flashed over Minho's face made Chris’ heart twist. 

"Show me your shoulder. Your left one." Minho demanded. Chris took a step back, his back hitting the wall behind him. Minho clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I need to see, I want to _know_." But he didn't offer any further information. Chris felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest as he realised what Minho might have been hoping to see. Chris slowly undid the top buttons on his shirt, tugging the fabric away to reveal a faded, silver scar on his right shoulder. "_Yes." _Minho breathed, and with the same gentle movements as before, brushed his fingers against the scar. "It _is_ you." Minho's voice rose in excitement. "Channie, I can't believe I found you! After all this time, I –" But he froze as he saw the bemused expression on Chris' face. Suddenly Minho's face became unreadable. "I forgot." He spat, stepping away from Chris. "You don't...remember." 

"Who is Bang Chan?" Chris breathed. "Please, Minho, tell me." He was begging now, but he couldn't care less. "Minho, I don't know anything of who I was, I need –" 

"You're from Korea. From Seoul." Chris’ eyes widened. "And you are your father's heir." At this, Minho’s expression became unreadable. 

"Heir to what?" Chris couldn’t help but laugh. This was so utterly ridiculous. He’d come from _nothing, _as far as he was concerned. Then a stranger shows up, telling him he’s the son of some famous man. Great. He didn’t know how he was going to explain this one to Han and Changbin.

"Everything.” Minho’s eyes flashed, the laughter died in Chris’ throat. “He as good as _owns _Seoul. He runs it like a king." Minho touched the scars on his chin, and his mouth twisted. "We can only hope that I don't get pulled up on that one." Chris’ eyes widened in horror, and his stomach dropped. 

"You’re saying that my – my _father _–" He nearly choked on the word. "_He_ did that to you?" Minho looked confused for a moment. Then he shook his head, and his expression became impassive. 

"I forgot that you know nothing." Minho ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "How do you think you got those scars on your neck?" Chris’ hands flew to his neck. 

"My...father." He repeated, tugging off his scarf and running his fingers along the plethora of scars on his throat. "I..." When he'd tried to picture what his biological father was like, he had never even considered someone like Minho was describing. Someone who sounded cruel and downright sadistic. He felt like he was suffocating. 

"You're different." Minho remarked, and Chris noticed that his voice had lost the gentle touch from before. He sounded suspicious. "Chan...Chan would just accept it. Or be angry. But you –" 

"I'm not Chan anymore." Chris spat, suddenly frustrated. He tangled his fingers in his hair and shoved past Minho. He needed air, he needed to breathe, he – "I told you, I can't – I can't remember, I can't." His throat constricted. "I can't, I can't, I _can't!_" He'd thought the scars had come from whoever had assaulted him, rendering him with amnesia. But to think they had come from his own _father –_ Chris moaned as a headache began to build up behind his eyes. He fell to his knees, pressing his hands against his temples. He dimly heard Minho shouting something at him, but he felt like he was drowning. His vision darkened. 

_"I value obedience, my son, you of all people should know that." __The voice was cold, and yet so familiar. He was peering up at a man with eyes that were eerily like his own._

Excruciating pain ripped through his neck and his hands flew to his throat, his nails clawing at his skin – 

"_Channie!_" That was Minho's voice, ripping through the memory. Suddenly he found himself sitting against the wall, Minho pinning his arms to his sides. "Channie, I'm sorry." Minho's eyes were wide. The nickname felt so familiar, coming from Minho’s lips, and it scared Chris how he simply couldn’t remember.

"I – remembered something." Chris choked out, and Minho's grip tightened. "I saw – him. My father." His voice was shaking and his breath was loud and harsh. Minho clenched his jaw. 

"I'm sorry." Minho repeated. "Chan, you need to breathe with me." Chris nodded jerkily, trying to get a grip on himself. He didn't have the heart to tell Minho to call him Chris. "Breathe in." Minho inhaled deeply, and Chris tried to copy him. "Out." Chris’ breath shuddered. "Again." Minho ordered, and Chris found himself obeying. Eventually his breathing evened out. "That's it, Chan." Minho soothed, gently running his fingers through Chris’ hair. Chris turned his face away. 

"I'm sorry." He choked out, and Minho tensed. "I'm not – who you want me to be. I'm not your Chan. I'm just Chris." Chris hung his head, and Minho bit down on his lip. 

"I should have expected this." His voice was soft. "Thirteen years ago –" Minho released his arms, but didn't move away. "We were attacked." Chris’ head snapped up. Minho’s face was twisted in pain. "They went straight for you, they knew who you were. They used their fists on me, but started using their weapons on you." Chris closed his eyes, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. He could see it in his mind's eye. Two teenagers, desperately trying to fight off a group of cruel and faceless attackers. Cries of pain, blood splattering the ground, a _thud_ as they were kicked to the ground. "I tried to stop them, but I –" Minho inhaled deeply, his voice beginning to tremble with rage. "I was too weak. I passed out, and when I woke up, you were gone." The blatant self-hatred that permeated Minho’s voice twisted Chris’ stomach. "If anyone is sorry, it should be me. I hadn't even anticipated that you would be different, even though it’s been so long. I pushed too hard." Minho’s voice was soft. “I just can’t believe that I found you.” Chris opened his eyes then. Minho was looking at him with a mixture of awe and disbelief and something bordering on adoration. Chris reached up and gripped Minho's shoulder. 

"It's crazy." He agreed. This was a lot to take in at once. "There was no record of me at all, here. I'd always tried to imagine what my family was like, what my life was like before." Chris nodded in understanding. "But why now?" Minho remained silent, and Chris persisted. "Why did you only come here now?" 

"Your father has need of you.” Minho’s voice was a monotone. Suddenly, it began to dawn on Chris that he was a probably someone’s pawn in some twisted game of chess. "He sent me here." This was news to Chris. Spies, here? His skin prickled uncomfortably. He thought of the man he'd seen in that flash of a memory watching his life play out on a screen. He knew if he continued to delve into this, he could get in over his head. Minho was watching him with a gentle expression on his face. Chris felt his stomach twist. 

He knew why Minho’s eyes had seemed familiar. He thought about his earlier flashback. The young boy that had comforted him had the same eyes as Minho. Chris breath caught in his throat as all of the other flashbacks he’d had fell onto him like a stack of bricks. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the boy in his memories. Most of the time, the boy had been there with him. Sometimes, the memories had been nice – he’d been laughing with the young boy, or they’d been smiling at each other. Other times, the memories had been dark. But whenever Chris had felt terror in those memories, the boy had been there, holding his hand or hugging him. As Chris searched Minho’s eyes, he had no doubt in his mind that the boy and Minho were one and the same. His heart hurt. Chris had always thought that the boy had been like a guardian angel. And now he was standing right in front of him. 

"Minho," Chris murmured. "Were we...friends?" Minho froze, and dropped his gaze. 

"Yes." He answered tersely. "You could say that." Chris’ eyes widened at this news. There was a lot he could glean from that single piece of information. He thought over the earlier titbits of information. As Chan, it sounded like he had kept to himself, isolating himself from the world. He sounded cold, someone who had a strong distrust of the world and people around him, probably because of his father. Yet somehow, he'd formed a bond with the enigmatic Minho. A friendship strong enough that, even more than a decade later, Minho still looked at Chris as if he was someone precious to him. Now Minho was here, far from home, because of him. Chris knew without a doubt that Minho hadn't just come because he'd been ordered to. He wondered how long Minho had been here, keeping watch on him. His eyes widened. Minho might know about Tailor’s death. His heart leapt with excitement. 

"Minho, do you know anything about –" But he was cut off by a roar coming down the street. 

"_CHRIS!_" Han yelled, and footsteps pounded towards them. Minho jerked away from Chris and within moments he had knives in both hands. He stood protectively over Chris, muscles bunched, looking like he could strike at any moment. "Drop your weapons." Han demanded, eyes blazing. Chris was stunned. Han wasn’t a stranger to combat – Chris had seen Han hold his own when some confrontations had gone awry. He’d promised Chris he’d be well-armed today, promised he would be able to take care of himself. It had put Chris at ease earlier, but now he was on edge. Han was easily controlled by his emotions, which became dangerous when his friends and weapons were involved. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Han so…scary, if he was being honest. Usually Changbin was the intimidating one. Chris sometimes lost his temper if it was a sensitive case, and the culprits were scum. Chris had seen Han when he was upset, or mad, but he had never been like this. Chris hadn’t known that his constable was capable of such extreme anger. Minho bared his teeth, scowling at Han. Han lunged at him, wielding his metal baton, but Minho ducked under his arm. Minho rammed his elbow into Han’s abdomen, using the distraction to push Chris further behind him. 

"Minho –" Chris began, but Minho barely spared him a glance. Han was desperately whispering into his walkie. Finally, Minho glanced over his shoulder, shooting Chris a tiny smile. 

"I'm protecting you." Minho murmured. Chris clenched his jaw. "Those are my orders." Chris nodded in understanding. Han was watching the two of them, his hands curling into fists. 

“Chris, what the fuck is going on?” Han was breathing hard. Chris could tell that his friend was holding himself back. The other detective was quivering, his hands white.

“I could ask the same.” Minho intoned, shifting closer to Chris. 

"Minho, Han is my friend." That did nothing. Minho didn't move. "He works with me. He thinks _you're_ going to kill me. I'm in no danger, I promise." The anger had melted from Han’s expression during the exchange and now he simply looked confused. "I'm okay, Hannie. Minho isn't a threat." Chris looked around Minho and offered his friend a reassuring smile. 

"You know him?" Han shot him a quizzical look. 

"Let's just call it a…reunion of sorts." Chris told him. Chris carefully put a hand onto Minho’s shoulder. The other man froze. Chris held his breath. It seemed like hours passed before Minho finally relaxed. That was when Han made the mistake of shoving Minho to the side, reaching out to Chris. Minho reacted within seconds, crouching down and sweeping Han’s legs out from under him. Han hit the ground with a _thud _and a grunt of pain. He rolled onto his side and glared at Minho. 

"Oh, _fuck _no." Han growled, shoving himself to his feet. He brandished his baton threateningly. Minho cocked his head to one side and smirked. Chris felt his stomach clench. Han wanted to injure Minho, sure, but just enough to temporarily incapacitate him. Minho, meanwhile, was following the orders of someone who hadn’t shied from torturing his own son. Chris knew that Minho would have been ordered to kill anyone who posed a threat to him. Han stumbled to his feet, panting. He began lunging at Minho, but the older man was faster, easily avoiding the baton whistling through the air. Eventually Han would tire, and that was when Minho would strike. It sent a chill down Chris’ spine. They were face to face with a trained killer. Someone who would not hesitate to take a life. 

“Minho, _stop._” Chris begged. Minho froze, but only for a second. “Minho, stop, you’re going to hurt him!” He reached forward, trying to grab a hold on Minho’s arm, but Minho shook him off. 

“Worry about yourself, Chris!” Han was holding his side, wheezing. 

"Chan." Minho warned as he spun and send his foot right into Han’s side. "Stay out of this." Han grunted in pain and adjusted his grip on his weapon. 

"He's not a threat." Chris promised, but he knew it was falling on deaf ears. "Han, drop your weapon!" Han glanced over at him, looking at him like he was insane. 

"No! Chris, he’s trying to _kill _you." 

"No, he won't." Chris pleaded, desperate for the fight to be over. Han’s gaze met Chris’ briefly, but the distraction earned him Minho's foot slamming into the back of his knee. He cried out in pain as he fell to the ground. Minho’s knives glinted in the air, and fear raced through Chris’ body. He had to stop it – he _had _to, but how? 

_"I value obedience, my son." _

The words cut through his mind like a knife through warm butter, and he shuddered. Chris remembered Minho touching the scars at his chin. He thought about the scars on his neck. They were the cruel reminders of what happened if his father was faced with disobedience. Chris knew he would hate himself for it, but right now he could think of no other way. 

"He can’t hurt you.” Chris muttered. “Not if I order him to.” Chris took a deep breath, hating himself for what he was about to do. It was so underhanded. But he didn’t know any other way to save Han. “Minho!" He barked. Chris watched as Minho stiffened, his arm raised. "I – I order you to _stand down!_" Silence. You could have heard a pin drop. Minho looked over at him slowly, eyes filled with shock. 

"Chan." He murmured, mostly to himself. He stepped away from Han and sheathed his knives. He stepped around Han and knelt on the ground before Chris. Minho turned his head to the side, and the scars on his neck seemed to mock Chris, whose stomach was churning. "I apologise for my disobedience." Minho’s voice sounded lifeless. "I live to serve." It sounded like a chant, something rehearsed. A chill ran down Chris’ spine. He felt sick. There was no denying it. His past was catching up with him, and suddenly he didn't know if he wanted to regain his memories anymore. "I live to serve." Minho repeated, still on the ground. Chris watched in horror as Minho retrieved one of his knives and offered it to him. When Chris didn't take the knife, Minho dropped it at his feet. 

"Stop it!" He ordered, and Minho froze again. Chris felt nauseous. "Put the knife away – that's an order, Minho." To his surprise, Minho was silent as he sheathed the blade once more. Minho looked up at him, his eyes wide, full of confusion and a hint of fear. In that moment, Chris pitied him, but he quickly he shook it away. Somehow, he suspected that Minho hated pity. "I didn’t know how else to stop you.” Chris whispered, his eyes flitting over to Han. He wanted so badly to go and comfort his constable, but he had to make sure that Minho wouldn’t attack anyone else. 

"You _are_ remembering." Minho remarked, and Chris shrugged. "Even if you don't fully, your subconscious does." He explained, and Chris realised he was right. The order had come too easily to him. The stance he'd just held had somehow felt natural. It was like his body already knew what to do, even if his mind wasn't fully aware. Chris offered Minho a hand up. Minho just stared for a second in disbelief before grabbing Chris’ hand, letting Chris pull him to his feet. Minho held his gaze with an intensity that made Chris want to look away. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. He felt as though he'd been in this situation before. 

"Minho –" He began, but that was when Han got to his feet. Minho's face, which had been calm, twisted into a scowl. 

"What's going on?" Han demanded, looking between Chris and Minho, desperately trying to understand. "Chris, get away from him. You saw him, he's dangerous." Minho scoffed at this. 

"He is in my care." Minho retorted, lifting his chin. "At the moment, _you _are the dangerous one." Chris caught Han’s eye. His constable looked hurt, and not just because Minho had kicked him in the solar plexus. 

“When were you going to tell me all of this?” Han asked softly, and Chris clenched his hands into fists. 

"I just met him." Han raised an eyebrow. “I swear, Han. But he _knows _me. He knows who I am." Han’s eyes widened, before he scowled. 

"You've made a new life here. Isn't that enough?" Chris felt his chest tighten. 

"That isn't for you to decide." Minho cut in, and Han rolled his eyes. Han turned around, murmuring into his walkie again. Chris squeezed Minho’s shoulder, before making his way over to Han’s side. But he stopped in his tracks, blood running cold when he heard Han’s words. 

"You're going to wanna see this. I think we can get him in." Chris felt uneasy. Han finally turned back to him, and gave him an easy smile, like everything was normal. He glanced over at Minho and smirked. "You're going to regret hitting me." Minho glanced over at Chris, as if asking him what he should do. Chris bit his lip and twitched one of his shoulders in the tiniest of shrugs. Minho's eyebrows rose slightly, and in seconds, he was by Chris’ side. It was weird how easily they communicated, like...Chris swallowed nervously. Like they knew each other well. 

“You alright?” He murmured. Minho shrugged, his eyes tracking Han’s movements. Chris found himself glancing over at Minho again, wondering what Minho was like under the façade. He already knew that Minho had a gentle side to him. But then there was the way he'd shown no hesitation when fighting with Han. He'd been prepared to kill. His instincts screamed to trust Minho, but he was beginning to suspect it was because his subconscious recognised the other man. A lot could happen in thirteen years – he knew that all too well. He didn't know how much Minho had changed from the person he'd known. The Minho his subconscious trusted probably wasn’t the one that stood beside him right now. More footsteps echoed down the street, and Minho shifted on his feet. 

"Changbin?" He asked, eyes wide. The sergeant barely glanced at him before turning his gaze to Han. Seeming satisfied that Han was at least standing, Changbin turned the full force of his furious gaze to Chris.

"Right now, it’s _sergeant._” Changbin growled. Chris winced at the cold tone. That meant that he was in _big_ trouble. “Han, cuff him." Changbin muttered, and Han began reaching for the handcuffs on his belt. 

"You can't arrest him, he's done nothing wrong." Chris demanded, throwing his arm in front of Minho. 

"He assaulted an officer of the law." Han offered, sounding smug. 

"He was protecting me." Chris shot back, and he saw Han pause. Spurred on, he put his hand on Minho’s shoulder, fixing Changbin’s gaze with his own. "I can vouch for him." Changbin’s jaw clenched. It was always Changbin and Chris that butted heads. Chris bit down on his lip, hoping that Changbin could see how desperate he was. Finally, Changbin seemed to relent. Han’s face was an icy mask. 

"Fine." Changbin’s voice was cold. “Maybe we’ll worry about that charge later.” He strode towards them, scowling. Changbin locked eyes with Minho, who bristled. "You’re under arrest for the murder of Rupert Tailor." Chris felt his heart skip a beat – and not in a good way. "Anything you do or say can and will be held against you in a court of law." Changbin continued, and Chris turned to Minho, eyes wide. 

"What did you do?!" He demanded. But Minho looked just as confused as he did. 

"Nothing." Seeing that Chris didn't believe him, he ground his teeth together. "I swear on your life, I _did not kill him_." Chris clenched his jaw, knowing that meant that Minho was serious. "Don't touch me." Minho snarled as Han reached for his wrist. 

"You_ are_ under arrest for murder. I’d suggest being compliant." Changbin reminded him. Minho looked over at the detective sergeant. He pressed his lips together so that they formed a thin, hard line, resigning himself to his fate. Minho pressed his wrists together and offered them to Chris. Han reached for him again. 

“He doesn’t match the description.” Chris winced as a note of pleading entered his voice. “Changbin –” 

“Save it, Chris.” Changbin snapped, motioning to Han to continue with the arrest. 

"Don't let him touch me." Minho spoke through gritted teeth. “You do it, Chan.” Chris’ heart felt heavy as he took the handcuffs from Han and began to snap them around Minho's wrists. Minho turned to Changbin. "I did not kill them." But Changbin had already turned away. Minho jerked back around to Chris. "I _didn't_ kill them, Channie." All Chris could do was hang his head as Han took Minho away. 

* * *

“I can’t _fucking _believe you!” Changbin slammed his hands down on the desk. “We’re meant to be a team, Chris! You’re meant to be the senior officer, our _leader, _and then you let Han get hurt! What the fuck were you thinking? You should have at least _tasered _the bastard.” Chris inhaled deeply, unable to meet Changbin’s eyes. “What would you have done if he’d seriously injured a constable, under _your _watch?” Chris looked up at this. Changbin’s eyes were burning. “You’d be off the case, probably put on probation. I _need _you on the case, Chris! We can’t do this without you.” That hit Chris like a ton of bricks. He chanced a glance at Han, who was holding an ice pack to his cheek. “Sort your shit out, or Han and me will do this without you.” Changbin stalked out, slamming the door to Chris’ office behind him. Chris looked over at Han, who was oddly silent.

“Hannie –”

“Don’t wanna hear it.” Han was clenching his jaw, even though it must have hurt. “Do I really mean that little to you?” Han’s voice had become surprisingly small. Chris’ heart ached when he thought about it from Han’s perspective. Han had rushed in, throwing caution to the winds, willing to put his safety – if not his life – on the line for Chris. Then Chris had dismissed him for a stranger, who had started attacking him, and Chris hadn’t raised a _finger _to help. Chris felt about two feet tall as he realised the gravity of his actions. 

“I’m really sorry.” He murmured. “It’s just…I recognised him.” Han just watched him, impassive. “He knew me – who I was, what my name was…and he works for my father.” Han’s eyes widened. 

“But you don’t know your dad is.” Han winced, readjusting his ice pack. 

“Apparently he’s a gang leader in Seoul.” Chris began to realise how mad this all sounded. “Minho works for him. He’s under orders to protect me. Apparently, we were good friends. He thought you were a threat, Hannie.” 

“But what about _me, _Chris?” Han sounded tired. “_Y__ou_ don’t know the guy, or if he’s even legit in the first place.” Chris opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but Han just raised an eyebrow. Chris’ mouth snapped shut with a _click. _“We’ve been partners for…what, five years?” Han shook his head, his lip curling. “Do I matter to you at all?” A note of pleading offered Han’s voice. Chris’ heart ached. He pulled Han into his arms, clinging onto him tight. Han buried his head into Chris’ neck, his arms by his side. Only then did Chris realise how truly selfish he had been. 

“You must have been so scared.” Chris whispered, carding his hand through Han’s hair. “You did well, protecting me like that. It was pretty stupid, though.” 

“Don’t scold me when you were just as stupid.” Han chuckled wetly, and Chris squeezed him tighter. 

“Han, of _course _you mean a lot to me. You’re my constable, after all. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Chan bit down on his lip. “I just got caught up in my head.” Chris ran a hand through his hair and laughed bitterly. “I was so preachy about not caring about my past before. Then the second I get some tiny crust I become completely useless. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Chris stepped back, but Han grabbed onto his jacket. 

“I don’t regret jumping in to help.” Han murmured. “You know I’d do anything for you, Chris.” Chris bit down on his tongue, running his hand through his hair. Han was looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. 

“Don’t put yourself in danger on my account.” Chris stepped back again, not missing the disappointment that flashed over Han’s face. “I think we should interview Minho first. I think this is a waste of time, but whatever.” 

“One lead is better than none.” Han was shifting back and forth on his feet. 

“But we could be out there trying to get the _real _culprit.” Han looked away from him at this, and Chris reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “I _will _talk to him about attacking you. No one beats up my constable and gets away with it.” Han still didn’t answer, and Chris sighed. “I’m sorry, Jisungie.” He knew that would soften Han, if nothing else. Chris was the only one who called him Jisung, let alone _Jisungie. _“I…I just don’t know what’s going on inside my head.” Chris knew he wouldn’t be able to admit that to anyone else other than Changbin. If anyone else heard it, he risked being thrown off of the case. Chris had always felt uncomfortable discussing his past, mostly because he simply didn’t know anything. He didn’t want pity, or awkward silence. He was worried that Changbin and Han would look at him differently. Chris nibbled on his bottom lip. 

“Just remember you’ve got us.” Han reached out, rubbing his hand over Chris’ shoulder. “Don’t go all lone wolf on us.” Chris chuckled at this.

“Please, can you imagine the disaster if you two left me alone? I’d give the station about a week before it burns down.” 

“My bet is three days.” Han sniggered. Chris ruffled his hair. 

“Jisungie, I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Han turned away, and Chris couldn’t see his expression. “Alright, I got it, time to shut up.” He slung an arm over Han’s shoulders. The two detectives made their way to the holding cells, were Changbin was brooding. The sergeant was pacing back and forth, Tailor’s file in his hands. He scowled at Chris, but smiled at Han. Ouch. Chris knew that Changbin wasn’t forgetting anytime soon, even if Han did. 

“You’re not talking to him.” Changbin told Chris, whose face fell. 

“But –”

“Nope.” Changbin turned to Han, and his expression softened again. “How’re you holding up?” Chris watched as Han shrugged. 

“Better. If Chris isn’t going to talk to him, then, can I? I wanna give him a piece of my mind.” Changbin shrugged at this. 

“Sure. Mind if I babysit Chris for a while, then?" Chris sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "There's some new footage we need to go and look over." Changbin explained, and Chris nodded. It made sense. Changbin probably could have done it by himself, but he knew it was his punishment. 

“I don’t _need _babysitting, unlike our inspector.” Han cut in. Chris whined at this, and Han laughed. Han reached up and petted Chris’ hair, cooing at him. “Aww, is Chris sad he can’t interrogate his boyfriend?” The last few words had a sharp undertone to them, and Han sounded bitter. Chris felt himself flush.

“Oh come on, Hannie.” Chris shoved him. “Besides, shouldn’t one of us be with you?”

“He’s the one that got hurt by your friend, so I think Han has the right to do a number on him.” Changbin paused. “Verbally, at least.” Chris rolled his eyes.

“Fine. You win.” Chris turned to Han, quickly noticing the way Han’s jaw was clenched. “You’ll be fine, Jisungie. And we’re just out here if you need us.”

“I can do this by myself, dickhead.” Han sighed and held his hand out for Tailor’s file. “Watch me.”

* * *

Han stepped into the interrogation room, trying to inconspicuously take deep breaths. Usually he had Chris or Changbin with him. Usually they led the interrogations. What if he fucked up? What if he asked leading questions? What if he got so pissed off that he punched Minho, and then got thrown out? As soon as the door closed behind him, Minho’s head snapped up. He had a soft smile on his face for a moment. But the moment he saw Han, his expression did a complete one eighty and he was glaring at Han with venom. Han couldn’t help but feel whiplash. He also couldn’t help but bristle, realising that Minho had been waiting for Chris with that expression. Han knew that was how he himself looked at Chris. He thought back to how Chris had told Han that Minho had known him. The hope on Chris’ face had made Han’s stomach twist. It was obvious to him, after seeing Minho’s expression, how close Chris and Minho must have been. Han couldn’t help but sigh. Chris had always been a magnet for potential partners, but this time it seemed that the universe just wanted to fuck Han over. First Hyunjin, and now this guy, who was not only a jerk, but fatally attractive.

“_You._” Minho hissed. “I don’t want to talk to you.” Han just rolled his eyes, throwing himself into his chair and slapping Tailor’s file onto the table. 

“Yeah, me. Whatever.” Han pointed to his bruised cheek, scowling. “Thanks, man. Really appreciate it.” Han crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to talk to you _either, _buddy, but at the moment I can hold you here as long as you like. Or send you to jail.” Minho froze for a moment. Then he leaned back in his chair, smiling. 

“Chan will get me out.” Minho sounded so confident. It made Han want to slap the smugness off his face. 

“His name is _Chris, _and actually, he listens to _me._” Minho scowled at that. “I’m his constable, and you only just showed up. Who do you think he’s going to believe?” 

“Wait until his memories come back.” Minho smirked. It seemed that Han’s fears had been confirmed. Fuck, what if Minho and Chris had actually been dating? What if Chris remembered everything and decided to ditch 3Racha for Minho? Han forced himself to take a deep breath. He was getting ahead of himself. He had to stop thinking about Chris and start doing his job. 

“He doesn’t need to have his memories back to know who he should trust.” Han bit out through gritted teeth. “Point is, he’s going to be on my side.”

“What makes you so sure?” Han faltered at this. He couldn’t think of a good comeback. “I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings by divulging the truth to you. You’d think he’d pick up on your feelings by now, wouldn’t you?” Han’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes were wide. 

“Oh, fuck off.” But his voice cracked. He hadn’t been that obvious, surely? What did Minho know, anyway? “_This _is the way you’re going to defend yourself? You sound like a child.”

“Says the _detective _who rushed into a fight like it was a pub brawl. My guess is you don’t do that for everyone.” Han bristled at this. Minho had hit the nail on the head, and Han hated it. 

“Shut your mouth.” Han hated how easily Minho could see through him. 

“Where did your manners go, constable?” Han knew he couldn’t let Minho continue to get under his skin. He knew that Minho’s plan was simply to needle him until he got angry, and then Chris would swoop in to break them up. “That isn’t how you should treat your guests.” 

“Why are you here, Lee?” Han pointedly ignored him. “I’m guessing it wasn’t for a vacation.” 

“I’m here for Chan.”

_“Chris.”_ Han shot back. “His name is _Chris.” _He didn’t know why it was annoying him so much. Maybe it was because Chris was his, and _Chan _was Minho’s. Han didn’t want to give Chris up to a criminal. “Who sent you?” 

“My…employer.” In seconds, Minho’s voice had become diplomatic, soft and smooth. Han tried to ignore how nice Minho’s voice sounded. Minho stared at him for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “Fine. I’ll cut the bullshit. Chan is my friend, and my employer’s son. He is in danger. I’ve been sent to protect him.” Han couldn’t believe that he’d actually gotten something out of Minho. He wanted to pat himself on the back. He’d stood up to Minho, and now it was working. He was proud of himself. 

“Who is your employer?” Han began scribbling onto his notepad. 

“I already told you.” Han looked up to see Minho smirking at him again. Han’s breath caught in his throat again. While Hyunjin’s smirk, attractive as it was, made Han want to punch him, seeing Minho’s made Han feel…ten kind of ways. Han couldn’t allow himself to think about Chris’ smirk, or he’d get off track again. “What do I need to do to make you listen, detective?” Han realised with a pang that this was just another way for Minho to slither past his defences. Han shuddered as he realised Minho had almost made his way into Han’s mind. 

“Okay, so you’re working for Chris’ dad. Why does he need protecting _now?” _Han tried to watch Minho’s face for a crack in his expression, a flicker of emotion, _anything. _But Minho was impassive. 

“I only just found out he was alive a couple months ago.” Han’s eyes widened. “I know about Tailor’s murder.” Han swallowed hard. 

“You _what?”_

“I didn’t kill him, if that was your first thought.” Minho scoffed. “I would never be caught for murder.” He sounded so confident, making Han feel uneasy all over again. “Our informants – or _spies, _you may call them –” Han choked on his spit. 

“Spies?” He choked out. Surely Minho was bluffing. He had to be. What would a foreign power want with infiltrating CID? Sure, government, that made sense. But what power came with CID? Most of the senior officers were under some government official’s thumb anyway. What was the point? But still, the thought of working next to a mole made Han’s skin tingle. He had no one who came to mind. What if that just meant that the spies were good at their jobs? 

“Yes. Keep up. They caught wind of some strange patterns developing about six months ago. I was just waiting for the first murder to happen.” Han’s eyes widened as he remembered that Chris had seen this before. Minho saw his expression and nodded. “We knew what to expect because this has happened before. Thirteen years ago.” Minho’s eyes darkened. 

“When Chris got amnesia.” Han murmured. Minho smiled, but it was bitter. 

“Well done.” Minho sighed, and looked away. “There will be seven murders. Six of them, Chris will know about, in some way, shape, or form, because they’ll _want _him to know. All of the victims will be found with a letter with them or on them. All the victims will seem random but have something in common.” Minho bit down on his bottom lip. “We still don’t know what exactly it was, but they were all connected. And six months before the murders start, a series of high-ranking officials will retire early, go missing, or die.” Han’s jaw dropped. Between a suicide and a car accident, a cheating scandal and an unexpected early retirement, four government officials had disappeared within a month. It had just seemed like bad luck. But now…Han was beginning to feel light-headed. “Time to pay attention to the news, detective. Anything can be a pattern.” Han’s heartbeat stuttered a few times. “This has happened twice before.” Minho dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. “They’ve never succeeded in killing seven people.” Minho stared down at the table. “And it’s the first time it’s happened outside of Korea. Not surprising, however, because Chan is meant to be the seventh victim.” 

“What?” Han choked out. He curled his hands into fists. “Why does someone want to kill Chris?” 

“You’ve never been inside a gang, and it shows.” Minho gave Han a wry smile. “Chan’s father is…extremely powerful.” 

“Yeah, I gathered by the whole spy thing.” Han shook his head in disbelief. “Surely he’s known about Chris for a while. But he didn’t tell you?” Minho’s smile was cold. 

“He wanted to keep me loyal, Han.” It was the first time that Minho had used Han’s name. It rolled naturally off of Minho’s tongue. Han couldn’t deny that he liked the way his name spilled out of Minho’s lips. But Han was too busy being angry to give it much thought. 

“That’s sick.” He spat out. 

“You’re telling me.” They smiled at each other for a moment, but Han ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He needed to get to the bottom of this. 

“Do you know what happened to Chris?” He murmured, and Minho swallowed hard.

“I was with him.” Han sucked in a sharp breath. Finally Minho’s mask cracked. “They ambushed us. I tried to fight them off, but as always, it was Chan protecting me. He managed to distract them for a moment. Then one of them knocked me unconscious. That was the last time I saw him. I was told that Chan’s father had had us followed. As soon as we were attacked, they called in backup. For his own safety, they sent him away. I thought he was dead, and was told it was my fault.” Minho pursed his lips together. His next breath was shaky. “And so I was enlisted. I sold my life.” Minho closed his eyes. “So you can imagine, when I saw him, and someone charged towards us, I was ready to fight back and _win._” The last shreds of resentment Han had towards Minho melted away. 

“I see.” Han breathed. “You couldn’t protect him last time.” Minho nodded. 

“Exactly. I’m sorry for hurting you.” Han paused at this. Minho sounded surprisingly genuine. Han hated to admit it, but he was beginning to empathise with Minho. He remembered the rage that had filled him as he’d seen an armed stranger pinning Chris to a wall. He remembered the absolute terror that had rushed through him as he’d thought of Chris falling to the ground, injured – or worse. He realised now that Minho had probably felt the exact same. But Minho had even more reason than Han to want to defend Chris. It suddenly dawned on Han that he was probably lucky to be alive. Minho had probably wanted to eliminate any threats to Chris _permanently. _It was a testament to how much Minho respected Chris that he’d stepped down. Han swallowed hard. Minho was dangerous, and yet…Han couldn’t help but sympathise. If Han had been in Minho’s position, he would have done the same. 

“I’m sorry for arresting you.” Han rubbed the back of his neck. He decided to shoot Minho a tentative smile. Minho’s expression softened for a moment. “Why didn’t they fix the amnesia?” Han blurted out. Minho’s eyes narrowed. “Surely they could’ve done more. Some sort of surgery, or…I don’t know.” But Minho was already shaking his head. 

“Easy. Keep him quiet.” Minho was grim. “Use him as bait.” Han’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “They keep trying to threaten the empire, and they’re doing it by going after Chan. If they can catch whoever is behind it for real, he will be undisputed again.” Han knew that Minho was referring to Chris’ father. “They’ve always gone off the grid when they can’t get to Chan. They’ll pull other little assassinations here and there, or robberies, or a few arsons. But Chan’s death…” Minho mouth twisted. “I’m sure that would be the main event.” Han felt like was going to be sick. “They always brand their work with a letter. It seems to have no particular pattern. Assassinations and robberies usually come with a G_, _though. Arson is usually an R_._” 

“Tailor had a G on his thigh.” Han rubbed his temples. It was a lot to process. “Let me get this straight. This has happened twice. Chris is the target. Whoever’s after him and is responsible is out to get his dad’s empire. Chris’ dad knew the whole time that he was alive. And you only just found out.”

“Precisely.”

“Fuck, how am I meant to explain this to him?” Minho bit his lip. 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.” Han looked at him, confused. 

“He’s in danger. Why wouldn’t we tell him?”

“If he knows, he’ll let something slip. No one can know. Our moles haven’t found which organisations they’ve infiltrated. They’ll be watching him.” Han realised that they were pretty much backed into a corner. Minho was right. Han pressed his hands against his temples, frustrated. 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah.”

“Fuck!” 

“Yeah.” Minho sighed. “Now are you glad I’m here?” Han just looked at him for a moment. 

“I’d never thought I’d be saying this to someone who beat the shit out of me only a couple hours ago but, yeah, I am.” Minho smirked at this. Then he sighed, and the mask slipped again. 

“I just wanted to protect him.” Minho murmured. For some reason, Han’s heart ached. He couldn’t imagine what Minho must have been through. Han opened his mouth, about to offer comfort, when the door opened.

“Oi.” Changbin stuck his head through the door. Minho’s face smoothed over. He was impassive again. “Time’s up.” Changbin shot Minho a glare. “We keeping him?” Han got to his feet and looked down at Minho. Minho stared back at him. Han knew he didn’t have to think twice about your decision. “It’s your choice, Hannie. You can lock him up for a good while, if you wanted to.” Changbin was still glaring at Minho. Han couldn’t help but smile. Changbin was so protective of him.

“Let him go, Binnie.” Changbin did a double-take. Chris poked his head over Changbin’s, eyes lighting up. Han smiled at him but quickly realised that Chris wasn’t grinning at him. Chris’ gaze was fixed on Minho.

“Han…you’re sure about this?” Changbin sounded confused. Han looked back at Minho again. Minho tore his eyes from Chris and nodded to him, clearly wary of Han’s decision.

“Yeah. We’re going to need his help.” Minho’s eyes widened a fraction, and he dipped his head.

“You won’t regret this.” His voice was soft.

“We’ll see about that.” Han watched as Minho smiled, and he ignored the way his heart skipped a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two's company, three's a crowd. I hope the title makes sense.  
Lyrics from NOT!
> 
> To be honest, I'm quite nervous about posting this, if that makes sense?? It's based on an idea I was working on a while back. I don't know how much further I'll get on the original yet, so I'm posting this to see if I can spark some motivation for myself. But I hope the premise is kinda interesting?? Uni is almost over, so I'll probably leave this until November. More of the SKZ gang will have more of a role later, so I'll add them later.
> 
> my brain when writing this: so hey i know you said you wanted to do minchansung but...3racha? hyunchan? woochan? is changlix still gonna be a thing? what's happening?
> 
> For now -   
DI - Chan, Woojin  
DS - Changbin  
DC - Hyunjin, Seungmin, Han  
Other - Minho, I.N., Felix
> 
> ANywAY thank you for reading. I really hope someone likes this haha.


	2. Presque Vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ///no gore in action, just a bad corpse again. tw however just in case.

_["Failure to remember something, with the sense that recall is imminent."]_

_The dust that covered my old mind now weighs down my current dreams._

Woojin woke to his phone buzzing, the piercing ringtone startling him awake. He knew who it was immediately, without having to look at the caller ID.

“Chris.” He murmured, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?” Usually, Woojin didn’t respond to phone calls. Usually he wouldn’t wake up at three in the morning for someone. But he had a special ringtone for Chris. It had always been that way – not that he’d ever let his friend know. Woojin knew that Chris would have hated the special treatment, even if they had been friends for over a decade. Ever since Woojin had witnessed Chris’ first flashback, he’d set a ringtone that he knew would never fail to get his attention, whether he was asleep or not. That way he could always be there if Chris needed him

“Woojin, I need your help.” Chris’ voice was shaking.

“Anything.” Woojin was awake now, on high alert.

“I don’t know if we can do this case by ourselves.” Woojin’s eyes widened in shock at his friend’s words. Chris was one of the most capable detectives he knew. Additionally, Chris _hated _asking for help. Woojin knew that sometimes Chris went three days without sleep if it meant solving a case. The fact that he actually worked _with_ Changbin and Han, accepting their help and their judgement, showed how much he respected them. Woojin had always been worried about Chris being able to work well in a team. 3Racha had changed him. He’d gone from being mostly solitary to quite confident, and he let his guard down more. Sure, he still didn’t have many close friends, but he was friendly with everyone in the department. He’d come a long way. But this was weird. For Chris to reach out to _him…_something was wrong.

“What happened?” Woojin cut straight to the chase.

“Turns out I’m not a nobody, Woojinnie.” Chris gave a strangled laugh. “Turns out I’m the spawn of fucking _Satan._” Woojin’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Chris, I don’t understand.” There was that laugh again.

“As soon as I saw the files for the case, I had a flashback.” Woojin’s eyes widened in shock. Chris had never really been able to work out what happened in his flashbacks. He’d told Woojin that he often saw dead bodies, horribly mangled. Often in the flashbacks, he’d be covered in blood. When they’d first started training, Chris’ flashbacks had been easily triggered. Once they’d become detectives, however, it had become even worse. Chris had barely slept or eaten. He had been a wreck. Thankfully, it seemed that over time Chris had learned how to handle it as he became desensitised. “The body I saw in my flashback had the same defining mark as the one I’m investigating now. Coincidence?” Woojin’s words were caught in his throat. This wasn’t part of their usual script. Usually Woojin might comfort Chris over the phone, or Chris would show up on his doorstep and collapse into Woojin’s waiting arms. But Woojin couldn’t soothe this. He didn’t know how. “And that’s not all. I met someone who _knew me._”

“What?” Woojin scrambled to his feet. He was filled with nervous energy. He could already see the possible routes that this was going to take.

“He works for my father. My father sent him to protect me, because these same murders happened when I was in Korea.” Woojin’s eyebrows rose.

“Korea?”

“Yeah. My name was Chan. Bang Chan.” Chris was stumbling over his words. Woojin blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

“Chris, you need to slow down.” Woojin murmured. “Go back –”

“What if I _know _something, Woojinnie? What if it’s hidden away in my head somewhere?” Woojin could tell that Chris was growing frustrated.

“Do you want to come over?” Woojin’s voice was soft.

“I think it might be best if you come over. I have…a guest, you see.” Woojin was already on his feet, grabbing his clothes.

“I’ll be there,” Woojin assured him, before ending the call. He hurried to slip into his jeans, pulling a sweater over his head. As he hurried to his car, he thought back over the call. He hadn’t heard Chris that scattered in years. It was also unusual for two Inspectors to work one case. It wasn’t unheard of, but it made Woojin wonder if there were multiple murders. Woojin frowned as he slipped into his car, thinking of his two new constables. He wondered if they’d be ready for a case like this. If it had Chris in such a state, he didn’t want to throw his new partners straight into the fire.

He didn’t doubt they were capable. Hyunjin had a front, where he portrayed himself as cocky and flirty, but Woojin could easily see through it. Hyunjin was hungry to prove himself but was insecure, unsure if he would ever be able to fulfill his dreams. Woojin could already tell that the new constable would be a hard worker. But he also knew that Hyunjin was still quite innocent. Woojin had caught the tail end of Hyunjin laughing hysterically at something Seungmin had said. He’d sounded so naïve, and carefree. Did Woojin really want to tarnish that so soon?

He hadn’t quite figured Seungmin out yet. Seungmin came off as goofy, and quite aloof. But Woojin hadn’t missed the sudden sharpness of his gaze when Woojin began discussing a case. Already Woojin had been amazed by some of the observations that Seungmin dropped. Seungmin had a great gut instinct but also had the skill to back it up. Woojin knew that his two constables were destined to become incredible Inspectors one day. But for now, they were in Woojin’s care. Woojin sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

He’d come to a decision after he’d spoken to Chris. Woojin had already figured that his friend’s ‘guest’ was this mysterious figure from his past. Woojin couldn’t help but be intrigued. Woojin tapped the steering wheel, already beginning to feel antsy. His own cases were manageable. Just a few robberies, an assault or two, the usual. His eyes narrowed. A murder case, one this big, and it had been assigned to 3Racha? He knew that 3Racha had an excellent track record, but the station had a DCI, and other Inspectors with decades of experience on Chris and Woojin combined. Usually, the biggest murder cases would go to the older detectives. Woojin’s stomach began to churn. He felt uneasy. What if their seniors were already embroiled in this behind the scenes, and 3Racha were sent to handle the superficial aspects of the case?

Woojin shook his head, climbing out of his car. He’d reached Chris’ apartment building. He needed to stop speculating until he had the facts right. Woojin ran his teeth over his tongue. He messaged Chris to say that he’d arrived and began climbing the staircase. Thankfully, Chris didn’t live on the top floor. He lived smack bang in the middle of the complex, to avoid any ‘accidents’ from less than savoury characters. Woojin scanned the stairwell, throwing the occasional glance over his shoulder. One could never be too careful. Between the two Inspectors, they’d probably made enough enemies to warrant their own revenge club.

Woojin knocked five times. The first two were fast, the next two were slow, then he finished it with one swift knock. It was a simple little code the two had developed as constables. Woojin’s eyes narrowed as he waited for the door to open. Usually, Chris would wait by the door and immediately open the door after Woojin had finished knocking. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door swung open. But it wasn’t Chris who greeted Woojin. The Inspector took a step back, surprised. The young man in front of him was dazzling, if he was being honest. He looked like he could easily be a model. But his eyes were cold, his face impassive. He had his arms folded over his chest. Woojin couldn’t discern any emotion from the other man, and it unnerved him.

“Are you Inspector Kim?” Woojin had been expecting a deep, husky voice, but the stranger’s tone surprised him. He had a voice that was soft and smooth like silk, each syllable clear and piercing, like a note from a flute. Woojin just nodded, peering around for Chris.

“Woojinnie.” Woojin unconsciously relaxed at Chris’ voice. Chris appeared over the stranger’s shoulder, offering him a worn smile. Chris looked exhausted, but he visibly relaxed as soon as their eyes met.

“Chris.” Woojin ducked his head in greeting. Chris squeezed the stranger’s shoulder, and the two men stepped back into the apartment, allowing Woojin in. Chris made his way over to his battered couch and practically fell into it. Woojin followed him, slowly lowering himself into the token armchair. The stranger remained standing. Woojin watched as Chris looked over at the stranger. The corner of Chris’ lip twitched upwards in a quick smile, and he gave a minuscule nod to the couch next to him. If Woojin hadn’t been paying attention, he easily would have missed the exchange. But the stranger slid onto the couch beside Chris, as if the two had had an entire conversation about it. Woojin’s eyes narrowed. Just who _was _this guy?

“This is Minho.” Chris patted Minho’s thigh, leaving his hand splayed over Minho’s leg. “He works for my father, Kwang-hoon.” Woojin’s eyes widened in shock. “Or Satan, as I’m calling him now.” There was no laughter behind the words. Chris sounded bitter.

“Nice to meet you.” Minho’s voice was soft. He barely glanced at Woojin, his eyes trained on Chris.

“Likewise,” Woojin observed the newcomer with intrigue. “So you knew Chris before he got amnesia?” Minho nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I met Chan when I was six years old. We were practically inseparable.” Woojin found it interesting that Minho still referred to Chris with his former name. He was also surprised that Chris had yet to correct him. “I’m here to protect him,” Minho replied, cracking his knuckles. “And before you ask – yes, I have seen this sort of murder before. Chan has as well.” Woojin’s eyes widened. “I’ve already spoken to DC Han.” Woojin locked eyes with Minho. Minho raised his eyebrows, and Woojin’s eyes narrowed. Minho was trying to tell him something. Without blinking, Minho flicked his gaze to Chris and then back to Woojin. “I don’t feel like repeating it.” Woojin began tapping his thigh, tilting his head to the side. “Han has all of the information.” Woojin pursed his lips in thought. If he was interpreting this right, then that meant that Han knew more than Chris did.

_‘I’m here to protect him.’ _Woojin sucked in a short, sharp breath. Was Minho just trying to protect Chris from his memories, and trying not to trigger anything? Or was there something more at stake that had Minho holding back? Minho quirked his brows again, and Woojin did the same, trying to communicate that he understood. With that, Minho’s face became impassive again, and he turned back to Chris.

“Hannie and Binnie found some notes at the crime scene. We believe the notes will correspond to murders.” Woojin nodded at this. “There are a few, and we’re going to be spread thin as it is, trying to get the killer in, as well as investigating further.” Chris’ face was now grim. “It’s…complicated. We think that there’s someone bigger behind this. I’m sorry for calling so late, I just…we need your help.” Chris paused. “_I _need your help.” Woojin swallowed down the lump in his throat. He wanted to say yes so badly. If he was by himself, or with his previous partners, of course he would have said yes.

“I…” Woojin paused. He thought of Hyunjin and Seungmin again. “My constables.” He murmured. Chris’ eyes widened for a moment. Then his expression softened.

“I’m not asking them to be involved. Keep them in the dark, if need be.” Chris pushed his hair to the side, nibbling on his tongue. Both were nervous habits that Woojin was accustomed to seeing from his friend. He knew that Chris was now wondering if it had been right to ask Woojin for help. he knew that Chris would already be chastising himself, convincing himself that he could do it alone. Woojin couldn’t let him think that. Not after they’d been through so much together.

“They’re not children.” Minho cut in. “At least give them an opportunity to say yes or no. Have you been partnered for a while?” Woojin shook his head, and Minho rolled his eyes. “Then they’ll know better than you about their own capabilities, surely.” Woojin just blinked at him for a moment. He noticed Chris squeezing Minho’s knee. But Minho didn’t look like he planned on relenting. “Something tells me the two of you haven’t gotten this far so quickly by just getting mundane cases, being coddled. If anything, I think they’d be excited.” Minho leaned back, sliding an arm around Chris’ shoulders. “Just think about it, Inspector.”

“I’ll bring it up to them tomorrow.” Woojin murmured. “But I want a full briefing first.” Chris nodded.

“Good.” That was Minho again. “I do hope you understand that I was against this.” That didn’t surprise Woojin in the slightest. “But Chan trusts you.” Minho caught Woojin’s eye. While he appeared very amicable, there was a glint in his eye, an unspoken warning.

“Same for you.” Minho nodded at this, understanding flashing across his face.

“He is safe with me.” It seemed they’d reached a stalemate. Woojin dropped his gaze, glancing over to Chris.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Chris muttered, pouting. He’d crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t need anyone fussing over me.” Woojin laughed at this. He had the overwhelming urge to ruffle Chris’ hair, like he used to do when they were younger.

“You sure about that?” Woojin couldn’t help but grin.

“Thank you for your help, Inspector.” Minho murmured. “Maybe you should get going soon. It’s late.” Woojin got to his feet, stretching. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew that Chris needed rest. By the looks of it, Chris hadn’t slept much.

“Please, call me Woojin.” He gave Minho a warm smile, holding his hand out for the younger man to shake. Minho got to his feet, glancing at Woojin’s hand with curiosity. After a poignant pause, he gingerly took Woojin’s hand and shook it.

“Call me Minho, then. I suppose we’ll be seeing you in a few hours, anyway.” Fuck, that was right. It was the middle of the night. Chris got to his feet, stifling a yawn into his elbow. He followed Woojin to the door. Minho hung back in the apartment, watching them carefully.

“We’ll just be a moment.” Chris gave Minho a small smile. Woojin watched as Minho returned it. Woojin had grown accustomed to seeing Minho with an emotionless mask. When Minho smiled, it was like the sun had come out from behind a cloud. He looked younger, and gentle. Woojin felt a pang as he realised that Minho could have likely been a carefree, happy soul, but he’d been thrown into a life of torment. It seemed like such a waste. Chris let the door close gently behind them, snapping Woojin from his thoughts.

“How are you?” Woojin murmured, eyes traveling over the dark bags under Chris’ eyes, the way his eyes were glazed over.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Chris murmured. “Today has been…huge. We only found out about Tailor – the victim – this morning. We went to the crime scene to investigate, but then Minho came out of nowhere. Han interrogated him, and Changbin and I looked at security footage.” Chris rubbed the heels of his palms over his forehead. “I just…couldn’t get it all out of my head.”

“So you called me?” Woojin was surprised. It was obvious that Minho would be taking temporary residence in Chris’ apartment. With the bond the two already seemed to share, it would have been logical for Chris to just turn to Minho. Chris looked sheepish.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I just…” Chris rubbed the back of his neck, nibbling on his bottom lip. “I didn’t know who else to call.” Woojin softened at this. He ruffled Chris’ mop of curls. His hand lingered. With a pang, he withdrew his fingers, offering his friend a warm smile.

“Anytime. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Chris grinned at him. “I’ll talk to my constables. But no promises.”

“Thank you.” Chris breathed. Woojin gave his shoulder a small shove.

“Next time, as soon as you need help, just _ask._”

“I’ll try.” Chris inhaled deeply, giving Woojin a tired smile. “See you tomorrow, Woojinnie.” As Chris headed back inside, Woojin couldn’t help but feel wistful. Sometimes he wondered what life would be like if he’d acted on his feelings for Chris. Woojin hadn’t been oblivious to his friend’s feelings. Woojin hadn’t wanted to throw a wrench in their professional relationship, or Chris’ rapid and rising success. But sometimes Woojin wished he’d closed the distance between them years ago, when he had the chance. When he saw where they both were now, it was easy to brush off his decision as a wise, selfless one. But seeing Chris’ hand splayed so comfortably on Minho’s thigh, and their sudden closeness, had made him wistful again. Usually Woojin felt his feelings resurface whenever he and Chris hung out, or on the off occasion that Chris still called him after a nightmare. He wondered if they would have moved in together by now. Maybe this apartment could have been his as well.

Woojin sighed, running his hands through his hair. It was for the best. Chris had a solid team now, as well. Changbin and Han, while fantastic in their own right, were incredible under Chris’ leadership. They all knew it. Besides, Chris belonged in the police force. Woojin had always been afraid that if he openly reciprocated Chris’ feelings, one of them would leave. One of their dreams would be coming to an end. And maybe Woojin hadn’t been willing to sacrifice it all for Chris. He knew he’d always regret it, at least a little bit.

He was curious to see what became of Minho. Would Minho just be a temporary fixture, or would he become someone more permanent? Anyone would have to be blind to not see how easily Chris and Minho had slipped back into each other’s lives. Chris probably subconsciously recognised Minho and felt at ease around him. Chris had always been touchy-feely, and quite affectionate. Woojin wouldn’t have picked Minho as someone who liked physical affection that much, but he supposed that Minho was just making up for all the years the two had spent apart. Woojin frowned in thought. This added a whole other saga to the pre-existing drama of a murder case. How was _Han _going to react? He’d always followed Chris around like a puppy. When Woojin had harboured strong feelings for Chris, he’d found it annoying. Every time Woojin would start up a conversation with Chris, Han would be there. And Chris would relent to every beck and call from his constable.

Han hadn’t let up, either. As the years went on, he’d just become more obvious. But instead of trailing around Chris, Han would try to impress him, sometimes only succeeding in looking like a total idiot. But Chris would always smile at Han and ruffle his hair, finding it adorable that Han was trying so hard. Woojin didn’t know how Changbin survived. Woojin shook his head. Why was he worried about such petty thoughts in the midst of a murder? He wasn’t usually like this. Woojin bit back a sigh and slid into his car. He had to do what he always did and get on with his job.

* * *

“You should go to bed.” Minho’s voice was soft and warm. Chris blinked at Minho blearily.

“I know. I just…don’t know if I’ll be able to.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck, feeling defeated. His nightmares had returned with a vengeance. He didn’t have the heart to face them again.

_He fell to his knees, ignoring the blood that began to soak into his jeans. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything but stare at the body in front of him. The eyes were wide open. On the arm was a sickeningly familiar letter. He’d seen it before. Was it happening again? Shock ran through him. He buried his head in his hands, beginning to rock back and forth. _

_“Let me through. Let me through!” Minho’s voice met his ears. He turned to see his friend shoving through the crowd that had gathered. Chris unconsciously reached out his arms to the other boy. Minho threw himself down beside Chris. Chris clung onto him for dear life. _

_“It’s happening again.” Minho gasped at his words, and Chris felt his head begin to spin. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to rid his mind of the body in front of him._

“There’s no harm in trying.” Minho smiled at him, and Chris felt himself melting. Strangely, Chris already felt safe with him. He wondered if it was purely his subconscious talking, but Minho made him feel happy. Chris hadn’t wanted to go and wake Minho up. As much as he felt guilty for calling Woojin, he didn’t know how Minho would react to his nightmares. At least with Woojin, he knew what to expect.

Between Woojin and Changbin, Chris knew he’d ended up being mothered one way or another. He’d always gone to Woojin if he had nightmares. He hadn’t wanted to bother the rest of 3Racha. Besides, Changbin had already dealt with several of Chris’ flashbacks. As Changbin’s Inspector, Chris hadn’t wanted to let Changbin deal with anymore of his problems. But Woojin had always been there. It had become habit, almost. Chris wished that he could return the favour more often, but Woojin was rarely stressed. He dealt with stress as soon as it came up, something Chris always marvelled at. If he was being honest, Chris was looking forward to working with Woojin again. They hadn’t been on a case together since Changbin and Chris had become partners. “Channie.” Minho’s voice startled him from his thoughts. Chris smiled at Minho, who began tugging on his wrist.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Chris couldn’t help but laugh. He wondered if Minho had some kind of sixth sense. After Chris had ended the call with Woojin, Minho had knocked on the door, asking if he was alright. Chris couldn’t help but wonder if Minho had slept at all. Chris began nibbling on his bottom lip. It felt _right _to be so close to Minho. But there was doubt in his mind as well. What if he couldn’t fully trust Minho? He _wanted _to. But if this was as big as Minho said it was…could Minho himself be trusted? Chris frowned as he thought about his father again.

He wanted to know more about Minho, and about himself – the life he'd led as Bang Chan was an enigma to him. All night he'd lain awake, thinking about the fragment of memory he'd regained. The voice he'd heard – his biological father's – was now as familiar to him as his own. The face he'd seen but for a few seconds was branded into his mind. He'd spent hours forcing the image into his mind, analysing it, finding similarities and subtle differences between his father's face and his own. They had the same eyes and nose, the same facial structure. But his father was taller, and more broad-shouldered. His arms were heavily scarred, but his face was clear. His father, from what he had witnessed in those brief moments, was intimidating. Kwang-hoon was feared, he was powerful, and he knew it. Despite the gut-wrenching terror he felt whenever he thought of the older man, Chris had a strange craving to know more.

“Worry about everything in the morning.” Minho murmured, smiling at him. Chris sighed, but relented, throwing himself onto his bed.

“Easier said than done, Minho.” Chris rubbed his face. Surely Minho wouldn’t be able to fake the warmth in his eyes. _Surely _he could trust Minho. Chris finally just decided to fuck it, and throw caution to the winds. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around Minho’s wrist, pulling Minho down next to him.

“Chan –” But that was the only protest. Chris waited with bated breath. Minho paused for a moment, before sighing. He propped his chin on his hand, giving Chris a small smile. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” There was laughter in his voice as he curled up next to Chris. The Inspector’s breath caught in his throat as Minho laid his head on Chris’ chest.

“Is it wrong to trust you so much already?” Chris’ whispered. He _liked _this closeness. And…he wanted _more_. Maybe he was just projecting because he was lonely. 

“I don’t think so.” Minho hummed in thought. “I thought I’d find it easy to distrust you, as I hadn’t seen you in so long. But then, as soon as I saw you…” Minho laughed into Chris’ chest. “I felt like it was yesterday when I saw you last.”

“You were in my dreams.” Chris murmured, and Minho froze. “And most of the time, when I had a flashback, you were there.” Chris rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I thought you were my guardian angel.” Minho was silent at this.

“I wish I had been.” Minho’s voice filled with pain. “I missed you, Channie.”

“I wish I remembered.” Minho buried his face in Chris’ neck. His breath was warm against Chris’ skin, sending a tingle down the detective’s spine.

“So do I. But if you fully remember me, you fully remember everything else.” Minho’s voice cracked. “I don’t want that happening.” Chris hesitated, but began carding his hand through Minho’s hair.

“Then…how about we start again?” Chris stifled a yawn.

“You should sleep.”

“Not yet.” Chris was determined. “I’ll start.” Minho laughed, but seemed to decide to humour him. “My name’s Chris, and I’m a Detective Inspector. My partners are Seo Changbin and Han Jisung. I lived in Australia when I was younger. I remember that, because I still have an Australian accent. As soon as I finished school, I went into the police academy. I like dogs. I hate coffee, but I have to drink or I can’t wake up. I like wearing black, I think it makes me look cool.” Minho chuckled at this.

“Fine. My name is Minho. I work for your father, Kwang-hoon. I guess you could call me a field agent. I like cats, and I like coffee, like a normal human. I’ve lived in Korea my whole life. I have two partners.” Minho paused. “I guess you could call them partners. Their names are Felix and Jeongin.” Minho’s voice was warm again. “They’re like my little brothers.” Chris smiled at this.

“Sometimes I feel like Changbin and I are related, the number of times we bicker.” Chris laughed. But then he thought about Han. Did he think of Han like a brother? He creased in brows in thought. Chris bit down on his lip. There was something there. At least he thought so. He brushed it off. It was food for thought, but for another time. “Are Felix and Jeongin in Korea?”

“Yeah. I’d be happy if they stayed out of this.” Minho curled in closer to Chris’ side. Minho reminded Chris of a cat. He began stroking Minho’s hair again, and the movement soothing him. “I wear black because it’s easy to be conspicuous, but in my spare time I like wearing colours, and patterns.”

“That’s cute.” Chris heard Minho’s breath hitch.

“I can’t swim for shit.” Minho continued, rushing on as if he hadn’t heard Chris’ comment. “I’m a rock in the water.” Chris laughed at this.

“I like swimming. That’s how I used to get my exercise done in the academy.”

“You were like that before.” Minho’s voice was so soft that Chris almost missed the comment. “I guess some things haven’t left you.”

“I like autumn.” Chris blurted out.

“Me too.” Now it was Minho’s turn to laugh. He wrapped an arm around Chris’ middle, slinging one of his legs over Chris’ body. Chris felt his eyes flutter closed. His head lolled to the side, his cheek resting on the top of Minho’s head. “Goodnight, Channie. Sweet dreams.”

* * *

Han hesitated outside of Chris’ apartment. Last night was the first night that he hadn’t walked home with Chris. Chris had been accompanied by Minho instead. While Han felt like he was amicable with Minho, that didn’t mean they were friends. Besides, it would have felt awkward. Both of them would have been clamouring for Chris’ attention. Han had decided to do the noble thing and let Minho have time with Chris – he hadn’t seen Chris in thirteen years, after all, while Han saw Chris almost every day. Han had debated just going to the station by himself, but force of habit – and the fact that he wanted to see Chris – had bought him to the familiar apartment complex. Han sighed, trying to mentally prepare himself. He raised his hand and knocked on the door. As the door opened, he felt the knot in his chest begin to loosen. Seeing Chris always made everything alright.

But the man who opened the door, blinking blearily at him, wasn’t Chris. It was Minho. Han couldn’t believe that this Minho was the same man who had tried to kill him yesterday. Minho’s hair was tousled and sticking up in ten different places, and he was pouting. He was wearing a sweater that was a size too big for him. Minho rubbed his eyes with a sweater paw, and Han gulped. Minho looked so _cute._ It was almost unfair how adorable he looked. Han reminded his treacherous brain that Minho had almost given him a black eye yesterday, and kicked the shit out of him, but his brain wasn’t listening.

“Good morning, constable.” _Fuck, _even Minho’s sleepy voice was cute! Was he just _asking _for Han to like – _dislike _him?

“M-morning.” Han squeaked. “Is Chris ready?” Minho shook his head, stepping back and letting Han inside.

“You’re early.” Minho murmured, stifling a yawn. “Do you want coffee?”

“That’d be great, actually.” Minho nodded, shuffling into the kitchen. Han tore his eyes away from Minho. He was loyal to Chris, dammit. Where was Chris, anyway?

“Morning, Jisungie.” Speak of the devil. Han’s eyes snapped to Chris’ bedroom, where his Inspector was emerging. Han’s heart stuttered. Chris wasn’t wearing a shirt. Chris was _shirtless. _Oh fuck, Han wasn’t prepared for this in any way, shape, or form. Chris had a perfect abdomen, and Han felt like his heart was about to give out. Chris padded over to him, ruffling Han’s hair. “We slept in.” Han’s brain had stopped processing language. He stammered out something that sounded like ‘okay’, but at this point, he was wondering if he’d said anything legible at all. His brain had completely short-circuited, going from cooing over Minho to drooling over Chris.

“Han, here’s your coffee.” That was Minho’s voice. Han turned to see Minho smirking at him. Trust Minho to know exactly what was on his mind. Han didn’t miss the way that Minho’s eyes traveled over Chris’ body. Han shot him a glare before trudging over towards the kitchen bench.

“How’d you sleep, Hannie?” Thankfully, Chris was pulling on a hoodie, so Han’s heart could have a rest.

“Good. I’m guessing you didn’t?” He took stock of the dark bags underneath Chris’ eyes and frowned. Chris shrugged.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Chris shrugged, making his way into the kitchen. He slung an arm over Minho’s shoulder, his hand draping down over Minho’s chest. Han watched them curiously. He hadn’t expected Minho to be fine with such closeness. He also hadn’t expected Chris to be so close to Minho. What if they’d already confessed their love for each other, and Han was doomed? At this, Han wanted to slap himself. What was wrong with his brain today? He shook his head, desperately trying to clear it. “Han, I want you to give the briefing today.” Han’s eyes widened in surprise.

“M-me?” His jaw dropped as Chris nodded.

“Of course Changbin and I will be there to help you, but I want to give you an opportunity to lead a briefing.” Han nodded, eyes wide.

“Close your mouth, you look like a Venus flytrap,” Minho commented. Han’s jaw snapped shut with a _click_, and he shot Minho a glare.

“Very funny, Minho.” Minho looked smug, clearly pleased with his comment. Han rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Chris. “I’ll try my best.” Chris grinned at him. Han watched as Minho reached up to squeeze Chris’ hand. The Inspector patted Minho’s shoulder, releasing him. Chris padded over toward him. Han looked up at his Inspector, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. Chris was frowning. Guilt flashed across the Inspector’s face. Han felt his heart stop again as Chris trailed a finger over his bruises. The other man’s touch was feather-soft, but it was enough to send electricity sparking through Han’s skin.

“How are you feeling?” Chris’ voice was as soft as his touch, and Han felt tongue-tied.

“Better.” He managed to choke out. Minho cleared his throat from behind them, popping the bubble that had begun to form around the two detectives.

“Awesome.” Chris visibly gave himself a little shake, ruffling Han’s hair before he turned back to Minho. “Alright, I’m going to get ready. Minho, come and get some clothes. I think I’ll have some stuff that’ll fit you.” And Han watched him go, his heart full to the brim with longing.

* * *

Changbin greeted Chris only with a nod. The sergeant was still pissed at the Inspector for his actions the previous day, and he wasn’t going to let Chris forget it. Changbin had opted for a suit that day, knowing he’d have interviews to run and a press conference later. Chris looked as disheveled as always, and even more tired than usual. But he still had his shoulders pushed back, and his dark eyes were alert. Changbin still hadn’t worked out how Chris did it. He noticed that both Minho and Han were flanking the Inspector. Han was chatting to Chris, bouncing with nervous energy. The two detectives were also wearing suits – probably due to Woojin or Han giving Chris a reminder. As always, Han’s shirt was perfectly ironed, while Chris' looked like it had been sitting on the floor for several weeks. Minho was dressed in slacks and a simple button-up, which Changbin recognised as one of Chris’. Changbin’s eyes narrowed. So Chris was already lending Minho clothes, was he? And Changbin hadn’t missed how Minho’s hand was resting on the small of the Inspector’s back.

Changbin tore his gaze away from the Inspector to survey the rest of the room. Woojin was murmuring to Seungmin, who was rubbing his chin in thought. Hyunjin, meanwhile, was looking at Chris with a mix of awe and appreciation. Changbin wanted to roll his eyes. Maybe it was in the way Chris held himself, or the way his appearance radiated ‘I don’t give a fuck’ energy. Somehow, Chris always seemed to elicit hero-worship from younger or newer officers. Hell, that’s how Changbin had felt when he’d first met Chris, who’d only been a sergeant at the time. Then Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to Han, and he scowled. It marred his pretty face and left Changbin confused. He thought back to the way Han had hidden behind Chris the day before when Changbin and his Inspector had spoken to the two new constables. Maybe the two had history. Whatever it was, Changbin wasn’t going to let it interfere with the case. He already had enough on his hands as it was.

He watched as Chris murmured to Han and Minho, who sat down at the chairs in front of the whiteboard, facing the room. Chris looked at the notes Changbin had already written up, eyes narrowed in thought. Changbin couldn’t wrap his head around the Inspector. Ever since Minho had shown up yesterday, he’d been…different. Chris could miss details, and be headstrong, but he was never as spontaneous as Han, who often acted like he was wearing blinkers. And Changbin had never seen Chris be so careless with someone he cared about. Letting Han get hurt wasn’t a simple blunder, or a mistake. It was an oversight, and a selfish one. And when it came to 3Racha, Chris was never selfish. Sometimes he drove Changbin crazy with how determined he was to put Changbin and Han first. Especially Han.

Both Changbin and Chris had an unspoken rule – they weren’t allowed to coddle each other. They’d been through that stage. When they’d first become partners, Chris had been so careful with Changbin, making sure he was alright all the time and that he wasn’t confused, trying to ease him into detective work by intentionally taking easy cases. He would preach so much to Changbin about eating well or getting enough sleep. He would try and make sure that Changbin was dealing with his stress. Frankly, it had pissed Changbin off, especially when he’d learned how little Chris took care of himself. He’d made his way into Chris’ office one afternoon, only to find his partner on the floor, shaking and hyperventilating. Woojin had been desperately trying to ground Chris, barely sparing Changbin a glance. Changbin had been shit scared for his partner. He’d been so confused. Once Chris had calmed down, Woojin had forced Chris to tell Changbin everything. Changbin had been shocked to learn how much Chris had been hiding. Changbin had always thought Chris so strong. But to see him so broken, with tears in his eyes, clinging to Woojin like a lifeline, had shaken Changbin.

Changbin had followed Chris outside when his partner had gone for a smoke. Chris had divulged that he smoked and drank to keep his mind busy, with a bitter laugh chasing a puff of smoke. When nightmares and flashbacks got bad, Chris would turn to the superficial comfort of alcohol and nicotine. Changbin had pointed out his partner’s hypocrisy. How could Chris baby Changbin when he refused to take care of himself? So Changbin had made Chris make a deal with him. They’d shaken on it. Changbin would get to baby him until Chris started taking care of himself. So Chris had given his pack of cigarettes to another detective, giving Changbin a thumbs up.

Despite going through withdrawal and a probable resurgence of nightmares without his coping mechanisms, Chris had stuck to his word. He’d even landed them their first big case as partners. Changbin would never forget the nausea he’d felt, seeing his first real homicide. Everyone had believed that it was a robbery gone wrong. A one-off. There were no fingerprints, no security footage, and most importantly, there was no murder weapon. But Chris had sensed something off. He’d doggedly stuck to the case, spending long nights chasing down leads or poring over evidence. Changbin couldn’t count the number of days where he’d come back to the station in the morning to find Chris in the same position that Changbin had left him in. Everyone had told Chris to just give up, including their Inspector at the time. Woojin had been the only one to tell Changbin not to worry, that they weren’t just chasing their tails. If Chris thought he had something, he’d follow it through until he found it. Changbin had been unsure at first.

But then Chris had called him at four in the morning, waking him with the news that he had the killer – the late victim’s wife and son. Changbin had been confused, at first, but he’d still gone to the station anyway. Chris explained that he’d had his suspicions – the family had been clean. _Too _clean. What a perfect alibi they’d had. Everything had been in perfect order, from their movements months before the murder to their bank accounts. But Chris had followed the pair one day after an interview. When he’d seen them arguing, he knew he had his killers. But finding evidence had been the hard part. Changbin had listened with wide eyes as Chris explained how the mother and son duo would have planned it, down to the last second. He’d shown Changbin a piece of rope found in the basement, thrown carelessly in a corner. The one mistake. The plan had probably been to fake a suicide, before one of the killers had decided it would be too hard to stage.

Changbin and Chris had gone back to the house. Chris had gone around on his hands and knees, spending hours combing every inch of the house. Finally, tucked away in a dresser, was a suicide note. Changbin and Chris had confronted the mother and son with the note, and the son had broken down and confessed. Changbin had never forgotten the moment they’d gotten a confession. He remembered seeing the glint in Chris’ eye, and that dogged determination. Since that case, he’d never questioned Chris’ judgment. Sometimes Chris would get side-tracked, or miss things, but he was never _wrong._

And this time, he was. Changbin hadn’t ever known Chris to be wrong. It was so out of the ordinary, and it had shaken him. He knew that Chris wanted to trust Minho – Changbin hated to admit it, but if he’d been in Chris’ position, he would’ve wanted to trust Minho as well. He couldn’t imagine longing for so many years to find out about his past, only for it be dangled right in front of him. But Changbin also knew that Minho was a likely Lucifer, dangling the forbidden fruit of knowledge right in front of Chris’ eyes. Changbin had no doubt in his mind that Minho was no stranger to crime. Of course, he couldn’t charge Minho with anything – they weren’t even in the right country to warrant Changbin taking a look at Minho’s past brushes with the law. Besides, he doubted that he would find anything on Minho. If Minho_ was_ working for Chris’ father, who was as powerful as Minho claimed, then his record would be clean.

If Minho really knew as much as he claimed he did, then that meant that Chris’ father had his sticky little paws in an international, likely ongoing string of homicides. Tailor’s death in itself may have seemed a typical homicide, with a few flares here and there. But when important gang leaders from overseas decided to get involved, Changbin knew it was time to reconsider what the fuck they were doing. He knew Chris would stick to this case, because Chris was stubborn, and he wanted to get his memories back. He knew that Chris would want to know why he had so many gruesome nightmares and flashbacks. But where Chris went, Han would follow, and if both of them went, Changbin would have to go along, too.

He was so scared that one of them wouldn’t make it out alive. Seeing how Chris had already become so feverish over meeting someone from his past, Changbin was worried about how he would handle an entire _case. _And that was just scratching the surface of Changbin’s worries. Chris had had a flashback, involving a death similar to Tailor’s. That meant that at some point, Chris would have had to _personally _see such a gruesome corpse. That didn’t happen unless he was either the killer, or the unintended victim. Changbin favoured the latter for his theory. It was unlikely to be the former. But that begged the question – just how many murders _had_ the Inspector witnessed? If the number and intensity of the flashbacks were anything to go off, Changbin would have to take a guess at half a dozen, at least. As much as Changbin knew he was a good detective, he knew that Chris was one of the best detectives the station – no, the _city _– had. And Changbin wouldn’t – and _couldn’t _– do this without him.

“Binnie, you alright?” Changbin looked up to see that it was Chris himself who had murmured in his ear. Changbin shrugged, not bothering to hide his scowl.

“I don’t like this.” He muttered. “Minho, as much as you seem to want to forget, is a _criminal._” Chris’ face became unreadable, but Changbin pressed on. “Chris, where there’s one rat, there’s bound to be more. How do you know that your father only sent Minho? How do you know that there’s not a big group of them here? How do you know that it isn’t _your father _who’s behind all this?” Chris’ eyes widened. Bingo. Of course Chris hadn’t thought all of this through.

“Trust me.” Chris held Changbin’s gaze. Changbin wanted to balk, but he knew he couldn’t. “Changbin, when have I ever let you down?” Changbin swallowed hard. He’d been partnered with Chris for over half a decade. He wanted to just agree with his Inspector, his _friend, _but he couldn’t. Not this time. Changbin clenched his jaw.

“When you let Han get injured.” Guilt flashed across Chris’ face.

“That was a stupid mistake.” Chris’ voice was hard. “It isn’t going to happen again.”

“But it happened once already, when I never thought that it would.” Chris swallowed hard, and Changbin couldn’t stop himself from glowering at the Inspector. Chris looked over at Han, and Changbin watched as the Inspector’s face softened. His gaze was so tender, and his eyes were brimming with warmth, and…oh, _fuck._ Changbin knew that look, and he didn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. First a homicide, then a gang member from Korea, now Chris going and catching feelings for Han, of all people. Would Changbin ever sleep again?

“I care about both of you.” Chris’ voice was soft, muddled with guilt and genuine pain. “I hate that I let Hannie get hurt.” Changbin felt his icy anger beginning to thaw, in spite of his resolve. 

“I know.” Changbin’s voice lost its bite. “But I also know that you care about finding out who you were, and you care about _him._” Changbin jerked his chin to where Minho was lounging next to Han. Minho was watching them with a sullen expression on his face. “There’s nothing wrong with that, but remember that if you want to us to stay on this case, you have to put that second for now. Once this is said and done, Han and I will be right behind you. We’ll help you as much as we possibly can.” Changbin watched as the Inspector’s eyes widened. Changbin sighed. “You didn’t think we’d let you handle it by yourself, did you?” Chris grinned at him, but Changbin wagged a finger in front of his face. “But you have to understand that _this _comes first. Okay?”

“Okay.” Chris’ shoulders relaxed, and Changbin realised that this was probably what had kept Chris up all night. “And you’re right.”

“Of course. I’m always right, aren’t I?” Chris chuckled at this and shook his head.

“Of course, our great lord and saviour, Changbinnie.” Changbin shoved his shoulder. The tension between them had snapped. “Chris, we’re not going to give up on your past just yet.”

“But we’re living in the present.” Changbin felt himself relax. _Finally, _it felt like they were on the same page again. It put Changbin at ease. If Chris could focus on the case, then Changbin would drop his vendetta on Minho – for now, at least – as long as Minho kept his hands to himself. Changbin could roll with that. “Thanks for keeping my head out of my ass, Binnie. I mean it.”

“I know. I don’t know what you’d do without me.” Changbin held his fist up, and Chris bumped his fist against Changbin’s. Han cleared his throat, and the detectives looked over to where their constable was helplessly wringing his hands, insecurity written all over his face. “You want him to do the briefing, I’m guessing?” Chris nodded.

“He was the one who spoke to Minho, after all. We don’t have much to add. Those tapes were useless.”

“I know.” Changbin was smug. “I had fun, making you watch all of them.” Chris mock glared at him, before striding over to Han. Changbin watched as Chris clapped a hand onto Han’s shoulder.

“Listen up.” Chris exuded an aura of confidence, commanding attention. Changbin just shook his head in disbelief. Maybe he could understand where Hyunjin’s awe had come from. “DC Han is briefing us today. There’s not many of us, so we’re still going to be spread thin. The main priorities are catching our guy and interviewing as many people as we can.” Chris clapped a hand onto Han’s shoulder. Changbin watched as Han began to relax at the touch. Neither of them were good at being inconspicuous, were they?

“Morning, everyone.” Han shot Chris a nervous smile, then looked over at Changbin, as if seeking his approval as well. Changbin shot him a thumbs up, and Han inhaled deeply before making his way over towards the whiteboard. “This is Rupert Tailor, our victim. As much as this looks like a random killing, we have reason to believe it was premeditated.” Han pointed at the photo of the carving on Tailor’s leg, which had been stuck to the board. “This is the mark we’re investigating. It’s the mark our killer likes to use for these sorts of murders.” Changbin watched as Woojin’s eyes narrowed. He saw a flicker of interest pique in the Inspector’s eyes, and he knew Woojin was hooked. “As we know nothing about our murderer, we’re bringing in a CI who knows their history. This is our informant, Lee Minho.” Minho raised a hand. “He’ll be working with us. We expect there to be other murders. We have several locations that we believe the next murders will take place at. We’ve already flagged them in the system. If any more murders, or even petty crimes, happen at the locations, we should know pretty much straight away.” Changbin nodded at this, impressed at the constable’s foresight. They’d taught Han well. “Each location also had a letter and a number associated with it. We don’t know if this is meant to be an acronym, and we don’t know what the number means. So far we have seventy-two degrees, ten degrees, and three degrees. The other letters we have are S and P.”

“Nothing else?” That was an unfamiliar voice. Changbin turned to see Seungmin sitting forwards in his chair, his brows creased together. “Maybe they’re coordinates. I don’t know what the letters might mean.”

“That’s what I thought,” Changbin told Seungmin. “But it doesn’t fit. If they were using latitude and longitude, Ale Street doesn’t line up with seventy-two degrees. It’s closer to forty-five, if anything.”

“What if it’s a code?” Changbin’s eyes snapped over to Minho, whose eyes were closed. He was clearly in deep thought. Minho’s eyes snapped open. “This is the first time there have been numbers.” He sounded like he was talking to himself for a moment. He watched as Han’s head snapped towards Minho, raising his eyebrows. Minho gave a small shake of his head. Changbin bit down on his bottom lip. What was so different this time? Why would there be a code? Maybe it was because the mastermind behind it wasn’t used to conducting their crimes in a new environment.

“I like codes.” Seungmin’s eyes were bright. Changbin just gave him a look. Strange kid, that one. He was probably someone that could solve Rubik’s cubes in their sleep.

“If the letters aren’t new, but the numbers are, maybe we focus on those for now. Your team never managed to figure out what it meant?” Minho shook his head at this.

“So, who is this guy?” That was Hyunjin. The constable was eyeing Minho suspiciously. “What do you mean the letters aren’t new?” Han inhaled deeply.

“This isn’t the first time these murders have happened. They’ve never been solved before, though, and six people have died each time. We want to prevent that if we can.” Han sounded irritated. Changbin shot him a warning glance, trying to remind the constable to stay professional. Han’s eyes met Changbin, and he mouthed a quick apology. Chris stepped forward, flashing Han a grin.

“No offense, but why are _we _getting put on this case?” That was Seungmin. He had an eyebrow raised.

“Unfortunately for you, you’ve been partnered with one of the best Inspectors we have.” Chris stepped in, then, fixing Hyunjin with a raised eyebrow. “This will be good experience for you, Hyunjin.” Changbin watched as Hyunjin ducked his head. “If possible, we need to keep as much of this to ourselves. All anyone else needs to know is that we’re working a homicide.” Chris’ gaze became steely as he looked over at Hyunjin and Seungmin. “Is that clear?” The two constables nodded, wide-eyed. “Woojin, I want you and Seungmin to interview the witness, and set up a stakeout at Palm Avenue, which we think is the next target. If you can, focus on the numbers and letters. It seems too important to leave out.” Changbin nodded at this. “Changbin, I want you and DC Hyunjin to lead the team that is after the killer. I want him in custody as soon as possible.” Changbin nodded at this. He found it interesting that Chris wanted him to work with a constable by himself. Woojin and Chris were the ones meant to be leading teams, not him. Still, he figured it made sense. There were six of them. They’d be more efficient if they paired up. “Han, you’re with me. We’re going to go back to basics and try to find out why someone would want to kill Rupert Tailor.” Chris clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.” There was a sudden knock on the door. Changbin turned to the door, confused.

“I’ll get the door.” He told Chris, who had started forward. Chris looked equally as confused but gave him a nod. Changbin’s hand had barely touched the doorknob when it was thrown open by a PC, who was wide-eyed and pale, breathing hard.

“S-sorry to interrupt.” Changbin felt his chest begin to tighten.

“Go ahead.” He bit down his lip. “What happened?”

“There’s been a murder, sergeant.” Changbin heard Chris’ shark intake of breath from behind him. “On Palm Avenue.”

“Oh, fuck.” That was Han.

“Fuck, indeed.” Changbin muttered. The second phase had already begun.

* * *

Hyunjin felt uneasy. He didn’t know how to hold himself. Chris had sent Seungmin and Woojin on ahead anyway, but had decided to take both Changbin and Hyunjin along to the murder. The plan, from what Hyunjin knew, was then for the four to split up after they left the crime scene. Hyunjin had been deemed the designated driver. He’d barely said a word yet, opting instead to keep his mouth shut. While both Changbin and Chris intimidated him, Changbin actually scared him. Chris had an aura around him that made Hyunjin want to respect him. Hyunjin had yet to acknowledge Han’s presence. He figured the less he spoke to Han, the better. No one needed a confrontation between them to add to the mounting pressure that came with a second murder. Hyunjin had decided to stick close to Chris. So far, it was working in his favour. Chris had slid into the passenger seat, shooting Hyunjin a grin.

“Do I go the speed limit, Inspector?” Hyunjin asked, and Chris laughed.

"Hyunjin, call me Chris.” Hyunjin flushed at this. “And I don't care. We're on a case, go as fast as you like." Hyunjin nodded and began heading down the street. "Left here," Chris told him, and then sighed. "Don't freak out on me once I start giving you the gory details." Hyunjin felt the excitement that had risen in him wash away as reality took his place. "The victim is Lara Hale. Mid-thirties, accountant, unmarried. Middle-class, living comfortably by herself." Hyunjin glanced across at Chris, surprised that the Inspector already knew so much.

"First trick of the trade – run a quick background check as soon as you get a call. Shouldn't take long at all, and it's worth not walking into a murder case blind." That was Changbin. Hyunjin nodded, tucking the piece of information away for later.

"Murder was called in by her friend. Turn right here." Hyunjin nearly missed the turn, and cursed under his breath. "Keep going straight," Chris told him, and Hyunjin nodded, waiting for the Inspector to finish filling him in. "She wasn't at work yesterday and wasn't returning any calls. Friend finds the door unlocked, walks in, finds the body in the living room." Hyunjin winced at this. "SOCOs should already be there, but we shouldn't be far behind." 

"How'd she die?" He asked, and Chris sighed.

"We'll find out." That was Han’s voice. Hyunjin glanced at the constable in the rearview mirror. Han had been sullen when Chris had informed him that Hyunjin was tagging along. Whatever. It wasn’t Hyunjin’s problem. He was here to impress Chris and Changbin, and to get himself some experience. He didn’t care about whether Han got butthurt or not. The four lapsed into silence. It wasn't long before Chris told him to pull over. Hyunjin spotted police vehicles up ahead and felt a thrill of nervousness. They’d arrived. The detectives wasted no time in marching up to the uniformed police officers clustered outside. Chris flashed his badge without so much as flinching. The rest of 3Racha did the same. The officers nodded and let them through. 

“This is DC Hwang, he’s with us.” Chris clapped a hand onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, giving him some reassurance. Hyunjin felt uncomfortable as he tailed behind Chris, aware that he was being scrutinised. He didn’t know how Chris kept up the confident exterior. Hyunjin already felt shaky, and they’d barely made it through the front door. Lara's house was small but sensible, in a mundane neighbourhood where people mostly kept to themselves. Hyunjin suddenly felt as though he was being watched. He glanced over his shoulder to find himself being scrutinised by some of the neighbours, who had their faces pressed up against the glass. "Hyunjin," Chris called, and he hurried up the stairs to the front door. At the top of the stairs was a young woman, whose eyes were red and swollen. She was being soothed by a pair of younger police officers. The officers looked down at the two detectives, and Hyunjin could tell that the other officers already knew who Chris was. They gave him a nod and scampered to the side.

"You must be Lara's friend. What's your name?" Chris asked the distraught woman, his voice warm and filled with the perfect amount of warmth.

"M-Millie." She choked out. "Millie Roberts." Chris put a comforting hand on her shoulder and looked up at the two officers. 

"Take her home." Hyunjin was surprised at the care that the Inspector was exuding. "This is DC Hwang and DC Han.” Chris pointed to the constables. “This is DS Seo. The constables will probably come by and talk to you later, Millie." Hyunjin flashed Millie a smile, and she returned it with a wobbly one of her own. Chris nodded to the two PCs and continued into the house.

"Rule two – treat witnesses nicely, they'll be more likely to open up later." Changbin was the one to explain. Hyunjin’s eyes widened. So there had been an ulterior motive behind the concern Chris had shown to the young woman. Chris looked around the hallway, deep in thought. He headed for the door that was gaping open. Inside were a group of forensic investigators, crowding around near the coffee table, taking photos. Chris cleared his throat. "Morning, lads." Chris flashed his badge again, and the forensics dispersed, giving the four detectives clear access to the body. Hyunjin felt a lump rise in his throat. The body of Lara Hale was in clear view now. She was lying on her side, arms flung out in front of her. He stepped closer. “Who closed the curtains?” Changbin muttered. “Turn on the bloody lights." The sergeant growled, peering down at the body and squinting in the half-light. The forensics were setting up their camera lights, and the room was dimly lit. They stumbled over each other to do the sergeant’s bidding.

Hyunjin blinked at the room was suddenly bathed in bright white light. He could see the body clearly now. There were bruises on her arms, shaped like fingers, and she was still wearing her sleepwear. There were deep cuts on her arms, where she’d raised them up to protect herself from a knife. Chris knelt down beside her and sucked in a breath. “Changbin.” He called softly. Hyunjin watched as Changbin made his way over to the Inspector. Hyunjin sidled forwards, trying to hear what Chris was murmuring to Changbin. "Look at her neck." Chris was muttering. Lara's chin had been forced up and Hyunjin could clearly see the dark and angry bruises on her neck. Her face was swollen and purple, and her tongue was hanging out of her mouth. Her face was twisted in agony, and Hyunjin felt a wave of nausea wash over him. There was no doubt about it – quiet accountant Lara Hale had been brutally murdered. He peered closer. 

"Where's the murder weapon?" Chris asked. No one responded, and he looked around at the forensics. "Where is it?" Chris repeated, his voice hardening. "There has to have been a rope, or some sort of material."

“We didn’t find any, Inspector.” One of the forensics murmured, and Hyunjin watched as Chris clenched his jaw.

"Could have been done by hand." Han murmured. But Chris was shaking his head, his eyes fixed on Hale’s throat. 

“Probably not. That looks like a proper garotte was used.” Hyunjin remembered that from training. Asphyxiation by hand usually took more time and was often clumsy.

"Well done, Hyunjin.” Chris turned to give Hyunjin a quick nod of approval. Hyunjin inhaled deeply at the acknowledgement. He could do this. He just had to keep himself from getting overwhelmed. Hyunjin watched as Han kneeled down next to the Inspector, who began gesturing to the corpse’s throat. “No, Hannie – you can see where it cut into her neck." Chris reached into his coat pocket and dug out gloves. Slipping them on, he gently began to prod at her neck. "This isn't all bruising." He muttered. "Some of this is dried blood. They had to cut it off her." Changbin hummed in thought at Chris’ discovery.

"They didn't run after they killed her." Han sat back on his haunches and looked up and down her body. "This position – it's not a natural way to die, and it'd be hard to strangle someone when they're lying like that." He looked around the room. It looked normal. Even the rug wasn't ruffled. “I’d say she wasn't killed in this room. No sign of a struggle. No blood on the carpet, despite the knife wounds." Hyunjin hated to admit it, but he was beginning to see why Chris had probably picked Han to become a detective, all those years ago. While it seemed obvious now, Hyunjin wouldn’t have ever thought of picking up on small details like that. Begrudgingly, he eyed Han with respect.

"That makes it sound like the killer _wanted_ her to be found." Changbin sounded doubtful, but Chris was nodding. 

"I agree with Han. If you didn’t want a body to be found, why waste so much time in cutting away the murder weapon, when they could have been erasing actual evidence? Why arrange her body like this – unlessthey _wanted_ her to be found?" The Inspector asked, looking up at Changbin.

"I see what you're saying.” Changbin was nodding. “It had to have been planned, then. We know the door wasn't forced open – it was unlocked." Hyunjin looked down at Lara's body.

"Maybe she knew whoever killed her." He blurted out. Chris pursed his lips in thought.

"Maybe.” But the Inspector had that thoughtful look on his face again. “But I see what you’re saying. There was no sign of forced entry. Good pick up, Hyunjin.” Hyunjin couldn't help but feel grateful. Chris was taking what he was saying into consideration, not just dismissing it. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of appreciation for the Inspector. “Time to investigate the rest of the house." Chris muttered to the other detectives, before turning to the forensics. "We're done now. Don't move the body until you've taken clear photos of the way she was positioned." As he took another look at the body, his body seemed to have finally decided that it was sick of the sight. He was imagining Hale’s terror as she was set upon, her desperate fight for oxygen. It made his head swim with nausea. He dashed out of the room. Surprisingly, it was Han that followed him into the hallway.

“Snap out of it.” The other constable didn’t look at him as he spoke. “It’s better not to think about it.” Hyunjin nodded, inhaling deeply.

“I just – keep thinking – about how she must have felt.” Hyunjin rested his back against the wall, sliding onto his haunches. Han sighed, but then took a seat beside him.

“Yeah. It’s…it’s hard, sometimes.”

“And you did this five years ago.” Hyunjin rested his face in his hands. “And the whole time, I was jealous of you, when you had to go through all of this.” He looked over to see that Han was surprised. Han blinked at him a few times, before rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I was lucky. I was with Chris as soon as I was out of training.” Han inhaled deeply, pursing his lips together. “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through it without Changbin and Chris.” 

“In training, it was so easy to just remind myself that the cases either weren’t real, or they’d already been solved.” Hyunjin murmured. “But _we’re _responsible for her getting justice. That’s on us. And I keep thinking that she must have been so fucking scared, and what if the bastards that did this get away with it. What then, Han?” Hyunjin watched as Han clenched his jaw. 

“You keep going. You take the loss and chase after a win.” Hyunjin’s head snapped up at Chris’ voice. 

“Inspector, I –” Chris cut him off with a shake of his head. 

“It’s Chris, remember?” Chris offered a hand to Hyunjin. Hyunjin hesitated, but then let Chris pull him to his feet. “I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I should have kept more of an eye on you.” Hyunjin was surprised to hear guilt in the Inspector’s voice. It wasn’t Chris’ job to take care of him. They weren’t partners. Chris, as the Inspector, should have been the most distracted by the crime scene. Yet here he was, trying to look at a crime scene while simultaneously trying to take care of Hyunjin. Hyunjin clenched his jaw, forcing his shoulders back. 

“I’ll be fine, Chris.”  
“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Han glanced over at Hyunjin and gave him a nod. Hyunjin nodded back. It was a truce. Han patted Hyunjin’s shoulder, and Hyunjin took a deep breath. He could do this.

“Thanks, Hannie.” Chris reached out and ruffled Han’s hair. Han smiled at Chris, his eyes brimming with warmth. Hyunjin’s curious gaze flicked between the two men. Then Han cleared his throat, looking away from Chris once he realised Hyunjin was watching. 

“Come on, let’s keep looking.” Han was all business now. Hyunjin looked over at Han in surprise. Han had certainly changed a lot. When they’d been in training together, Han had been meek and quiet, barely ever voicing his thoughts. Now he was giving orders and speaking to his Inspector with authority, like they were equals. And Chris seemed happy with it, meaning that Han had gained his respect. Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. Five years could really change someone.

* * *

The murder had seemed so gruesome, and yet there was nothing special about Lara at all. Chris couldn’t figure it out. It was reminding him far too much of Tailor’s case. It was an extraordinary murder for extraordinarily _ordinary _woman. Chris shook his head and forced his mind to the matter at hand. He had to get his head out of the Tailor case, or it could cloud his judgment. He knew that was an all-too-real possibility. He was looking around the bedroom now, trying to find something out of place. He started walking around with his eyes on the ground, trying to find a splash of blood, even one thread of the carpet out of place. He ended up sitting on the edge of the neatly made bed, curling his hands into fists. He looked over the bed carefully. It was as if it hadn't been touched. Then he jumped to his feet as if electrocuted. He already knew that Lara hadn't been killed in the living room. But she'd still been in her pyjamas. He began taking the pillows off the bed, and ripped the sheets off, stripping the mattress bare. Hyunjin was watching him with wide eyes, bemused.

"Gotcha." Chris whispered. There was a splatter of dried blood on the mattress. "Changbin!" He yelled over his shoulder. No answer. "Han!" That was when he heard footsteps coming down the hall towards him, and he relaxed. Han hurried into the room, eyes wide.

“Why did you strip the bed?" Han seemed confused.

"Look, on the mattress –" Han’s eyes widened as he made his over to Chris, staring down at the bloodstained mattress. "They remade it with fresh sheets."

"That bastard." Han hissed. "They killed her while she slept. Didn't even give her a chance to defend herself. But if she was asleep, why was the door unlocked?” Chris’ eyes widened. He hadn’t thought about that. His skin crawled as he thought of someone slipping into an apartment in the dead of night, searching for their prey.

“Maybe she just forgot to lock the door?” Hyunjin suggested weakly.

“But why cover up the blood here, only to make her body easy to find?" Chris was continuing. His jaw was clenched, and a muscle in his cheek was jumping. It made no sense. He looked over at the bedside table. In his haste at clearing the bed, he'd knocked some papers onto the ground. He bent to pick them up. He froze when he saw smears of blood on them and hurried to scan the documents. His brows drew together in thought before he sucked in a sharp breath. He began rifling through the rest of the papers on the bedside table. There was grainy security footage, showing a woman – Chris assumed it was Lara – tucking money into her bag. He didn’t know what to make of it until he began scanning over another sheet of paper. His eyes narrowed. “Oh, fuck.” He muttered, once he realised what he was seeing. There was an official paper record from an accounting company on a daily receipt. Nothing out of the ordinary. But the handwritten totals on the next page told a different story. There was no substantial difference between the two totals, but Chris already suspected he knew what he was looking at. He flipped through the next few pages, finding the same thing. He shoved a hand through his hair, gritting his teeth.

"Chris?" Han sounded cautious, as if unsure how to speak to him. Chris supposed it must have looked like he'd gone mad, staring at pieces of paper with wide eyes.

"Lara wasn't as innocent as we first thought." He shoved some of the papers at Han, who was bemused. "She was skimming money." Han shook his head in disbelief, and swore loudly.

“But why would she just leave these lying around?"

"'Crazy accountant gets revenge on money-hungry employee'?" Han raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it." Chris bit down on his tongue. 

"Ah, hell." He massaged her temples. "Let's head back. Hyunjin, get Changbin in here, please.” Hyunjin nodded, eyes wide, scrambling out of the room. "Go wait in the car, Han. Take those papers with you." Han opened his mouth to protest, but Chris fixed him with a pointed stare. The constable nodded, gathering up the documents and stepping out of the room. He headed to the front door but lingered at the entrance. He heard Changbin’s voice coming from the living room, telling forensics to begin going over the rest of the house with a fine-toothed comb. Chris thought of Lara's face, her twisted expression. She was a simple accountant. Why had she been killed? He began nibbling on his bottom lip, his head whirling with theories and possibilities. 

"Find anything?" A familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Changbin. 

"More than we'd bargained for," Chris admitted. "This case is going to get complicated."

"As if Tailor’s case wasn’t bad enough." Changbin groaned. Chris thought about the papers he’d held in his hands. It was pretty damning evidence. If Lara had still been alive, she would have been arrested and sent to jail. Fraud had become a pretty serious offence. The more he thought about it, the more it didn't add up. Lara wouldn't have kept that sort of evidence just lying around. The _point_ of skimming was to hide it and to leave no evidence. But someone had dug out these documents and had put them there in plain sight. The murder looked premeditated, and the killer had gone into Lara's house knowing exactly what they were looking for. The papers had been there for them to find. Her body had been there for them to find. But why hide the bloodstains? If the killer was so smart, why had they left the blood on the mattress? He thought about how some of the papers were smeared with dried blood. His pulse quickened. What if the killer's blood had splattered onto the sheets? Lara's blood have soaked through, so they would have left it. The killer may have realised too late that the blood on the sheets and mattress hadn't just been Lara's, even leaving the crime scene before realising their lapse of judgment. It was a stretch. He'd need to see the street's security footage before anything could be confirmed.

“Let’s get going. I want to look at those documents.” Chris began nibbling his lip. Suddenly a wave of nausea washed over him, and he felt dizzy. His head began to spin. He clenched his hands together and closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He wasn’t going to pass out this time. He couldn’t afford to.

_A young woman’s twisted body, hanging from the roof, like some sort of sick décor. He was transfixed, unable to look away – _

“Chris!” Changbin started shaking his shoulder. “You okay?” Chris looked over at the sergeant, breathing hard. So he’d seen this one before, as well. They were few discrepancies, but if this had triggered a flashback, he wasn’t going to ignore it.

“Y-yeah.” Changbin rubbed the back of his neck soothingly as he tried to ground himself.

“We can take a break.” Changbin’s voice was soft. He wrapped an arm around Chris, squeezing him tight. Chris looked over at him and couldn’t help but smile. If he told anyone how soft DS Seo Changbin could be, no one would believe him. Chris shook his head and straightened himself up.

“It wasn’t a bad one, Binnie. I’ll be alright.”

“If you’re sure.” Changbin squeezed his arm, before letting him go.

“I’ll be fine.” Chris patted his shoulder, holding his gaze until Changbin nodded, taking a step back.

“Chris, I was going to say…” Changbin started fidgeting back and forth. “If Minho knew about Tailor’s murder, do you think he’d know anything about this one?” Chris looked at him with wide eyes. Changbin looked like he hated suggesting that they ask for Minho’s help, but Chris saw his point.

“Let’s find out.”

* * *

“Usually they happen once a week, or every fortnight.” Minho was pacing back and forth. “This is too close.” Han watched as Minho paced back and forth. “Too many things are different.” Han was growing dizzy, watching Minho trot around in front of him. The two men had set up shop in Chris’ office. Changbin, Chris, and Woojin were reporting on Hale’s murder to Superintendent Ivory. Hyunjin and Seungmin had gone to interview Millie Roberts, Hale’s friend, and to do some door-to-door work. That had left Han on babysitting duty, even though Minho had insisted that _he _was the one babysitting Han. “They must have a different leader.” Minho had begun cracking his knuckles, prompting Han to get to his feet. He padded over to Minho, stopping the other man in his tracks by grabbing his shoulders.

“Breathe, man.” Han patted Minho’s shoulders, giving him a small smile. “We’ll figure this out. Why don’t we get started on putting evidence together, or something, while we wait for the others get back?” Minho was silent. “We can’t do anything until they get back.” Han insisted. “Let’s just chill, Minho.” At this, Minho’s features twisted with anger. He wrenched himself from Han’s grasp, eyes alight.

“You seem to forget that if a murder happens every day or few days, they’ll be after Chan in less than two weeks. They only need four more before it's Chan's turn.” Most people would shout when angry, their voice flaring with heat. But not Minho. Minho’s voice was soft, yet icy, and perilous. Han clenched his jaw. “Last time they were almost successful, Han.” Han didn’t miss the hint of desperation that slipped into Minho’s voice. This time, Minho took a step forward. Their faces were a hairsbreadth apart. Han could feel Minho’s breath on his face, and it made his heart skip a beat. For a moment, it seemed like the rest of the room faded away. Han found himself getting lost in the deep sea of Minho’s eyes. He desperately tried to decipher the emotions he found there, but it was hopeless. When Minho had his walls up, no one would be able to get through. “We need to solve this.” Minho turned sharply on his heel, leaving Han with whiplash as the spell between them was broken. He shook his head to clear it. “I thought we’d have at least a month, maybe two.” The realisation hit Han like a sack of cement. He felt the breath leave his lungs. He understood Minho’s anger now. “If we don’t solve this, I have to take him.” Minho practically spat.

_“What?” _Han’s eyes widened in shock.

“It’s the only way to keep him safe. It’s what happened last time, that’s why he ended up here.” Minho’s voice was low. “So he’d be safe. But now…”

“He’ll go back to Korea?” Han watched as Minho nodded. A lump formed in his throat. “For how long?” Minho’s silence gave Han his answer. Han cursed under his breath, falling into a chair and burying his face in his hands. “I don’t even know where to start.” Han whispered. “Finding one killer is easy. Finding a gang is harder. Particularly if, you know, they’re some kind of international syndicate.” Han pressed his hands against his temples. “Tell me more about Kwang-hoon.” He watched as a shadow passed over Minho’s face. Minho lowered his head.

“From what I understand, he started as a petty crook.” Minho began. “Then he became an assassin.” Han almost rolled his eyes until he saw Minho turn and fix him with a look. “He killed countless officials, bankers, police officers, heirs. He was good at his job. Slowly, he built up an empire by killing powerful criminals. Then one day, I suppose…it just exploded.” Minho sighed deeply. “He killed the most powerful man in the criminal underworld. By then, everyone else knew to fear him, or they’d find themselves dead. So of course, he became the new King.” Minho laughed bitterly. “And that’s what he likes to be called.” Han felt his stomach begin to churn, thinking that someone like Kwang-hoon was related to someone like Chris. He couldn’t see his Inspector ever becoming someone so ruthless, and cold. “He had to fight to keep it, for a few years, but over time he expanded his horizons. Soon he had half of Seoul under his thumb. Protection rackets, international drug smuggling, grand-scale money laundering, and the like. And then we get to today, where he runs the whole city and beyond.”

“Minho, you do realise I’m a detective, right?” Minho smiled, but it was bitter. "Probably not best to be telling me about all this shit."

“Do you really think we’d let you find anything? Besides, I could kill you, if I needed to.” Han swallowed hard. While it sounded like Minho was joking, his face was completely deadpan. “Being so close to Kwang-hoon means you get most of his dirty work.”

“Fair play.” Han shook his head. “I understand what you mean now when you said you’d never get done for murder.” Han inhaled shakily. He was a _detective,_ for fuck’s sake. And yet, he was in the same room as a criminal. Most surprisingly of all, he didn’t hate it. He kind of liked Minho, to be honest. Minho was quick-thinking and sharp. From the glimpses of Minho’s true self, under the façade, Han had discovered that Minho was caring. He was a cool guy. But still, it was almost laughable. A rat and a cop, in the same room, on the same side. He would never have thought his life would have come to this.

“Perhaps the most successful idea Kwang-hoon had was Operation Pythia.” Minho sighed. “He ran Seoul so well because he became all-seeing. He knew everything. He _saw_ everything. He had a big enough intelligence force to know who forgot to lock their doors, who left anything lying around, who left for work late or got home early.” The skin on the back of Han’s neck began to prickle. “Then when they started over going after Chan, he knew nothing. It was insane. He had cameras and eyes everywhere. Hidden microphones and cameras, spies – and yet he knew nothing about the murders.”

“Inside job.” Han muttered. Minho snapped his fingers.

“Exactly. That’s what we tried to figure out. That’s why Chan was moved here, in case the mole struck again. Kwang-hoon is too well protected. With his history as an assassin, he knows how to keep himself safe. But everyone knows that the future of his empire rests with Chan. If Chan is gone, Kwang-hoon won’t have a legacy.” Minho sighed deeply. He looked troubled. Han didn’t need to be a genius to know that Chris had probably hated the idea of carrying on his father’s empire. “When Chan was moved here, Kwang-hoon set up Project Argus.”

“The one he kept from you.” Minho’s eyes darkened, but he nodded.

“Precisely. A new intelligence operation, but this time focused only on Chan, to ensure he was safe here. Both of my partners were on the taskforce. They were forbidden to tell me. I was always intended to be the leader of Project Argus, but of course…I had to earn my place with twelve years of loyalty first.” Minho clenched his jaw and sat down beside Han, cracking his knuckles again. “Han…I am truly sorry that you are a part of this now.” Minho’s voice was soft. He looked incredibly sad, and it made Han want to give him a hug. Han resisted the urge to squeeze his shoulder.

“Unfortunately, if Chris is involved, I’m always going to tag along.” Minho smiled at this. Han found himself running his eyes over Minho’s face. He would never have clued in on the fact that Minho belonged to a gang. Minho had soft, supple lips, that were too often pulled into a frown. Minho looked incredible when he smiled. Han gave himself a little shake. That was enough of _that _train of thought for one day.

“How did the two of you meet? You seem…” Minho paused, biting down on his lip. “Close.” Han leaned back into his chair.

“Seven years ago, I was just a normal uniformed cop. A PC.” Han began. Minho was giving Han his full attention, resting his chin in his hand. Han ignored the flush that he felt spread across his face. “Chris was a DS then. He had been sent to scout out anyone he thought would make a new detective. He was looking for senior officers, or at least officers with a good deal of experience.”

“But he picked you, I’m guessing?” Minho looked curious.

“Yeah. No one knew why.” Han laughed sheepishly. “Chris told me it was because I asked him so many questions and because I had good scores. I thought that experience would make a better detective, though.” Han still found it hard to believe that out of everyone at his station, Chris had recommended him. “But he must have done a good job of convincing everyone to pick me, because I started my training that year.” Han couldn’t help but grin. “Then, after I finished training, I got partnered with him and Changbin.”

“That seems like a thing he would have done.” Minho was smiling again, but it was soft. “Seeing him like this…it makes me think that this is the person he would have been before, without Kwang-hoon’s influence.” Minho sighed deeply. “You seem like a good guy, Han.” Han started at this, eyes wide.

“Y-you too, Minho.” The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence. Han found his eyes kept getting drawn back to Minho’s face. He finally relented, allowing his gaze to skate over Minho’s face again. Han’s eyes travelled along the length of Minho’s jaw before skidding to a halt when he got to Minho’s scars. “Minho…the scars.” Han’s voice was very soft. Unconsciously, he reached out a hand towards the other man. Minho just looked at him for a moment, confused.

“Do you want to know how I got them?” Minho’s voice was low. He turned his head to the side, giving Han a clear view of the two scars running down his neck. They were clean white lines, with no jagged edges. A knife wound, Han presumed. He brushed his fingers against Minho’s neck. Despite his touch being light, Minho still jumped. “From Kwang-hoon himself.” Han jerked his hand back, unable to stop the flicker of rage that lit in his chest. “For my insubordination.” There was that bitter smile again.

“You two look cosy.” Han’s head snapped towards the door. Chris, Changbin, and Woojin were making their way into the Inspector’s office. Changbin looked triumphant, and Chris looked like he was bursting with energy. Han gave Minho a quick smile, which he was surprised to see returned. He turned back to Changbin, curious. “The second letter was S, right?” Changbin continued, offering Han a picture. Han was met with the sight of Hale’s body. The odd position of her corpse was what had first struck Han, and seemingly for good reason. Someone had followed the line of body with a pen, forming a familiar letter.

“Clever.” Han whistled. “So they used her whole body to make it.”

“That’s not all. On one of the papers, one of the numbers circled was one hundred and forty-one. _Degrees. _We have three numbers now.” Changbin’s eyes were filled with excitement. He’d caught the scent of his prey, and was ready to hunt it down.

“_And_ Changbin got us a lead on Tailor’s killer.” Chris had that look on his face. Han knew it all too well. Chris wasn’t going to let this case go, even if it killed him. By the look on Minho’s face, Han was starting to wonder if it would. Han was just about to ask Chris about their next movements when Minho made a strangled noise, jumping to his feet. “Minho?” Instantly, his Inspector was by Minho’s side, cupping Minho’s face. “What’s wrong?” Chris paused for a moment. He dropped his hands from Minho’s face, a flicker of confusion flitting over his face. Han couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a completely subconscious movement.

“I need to go.” Minho choked out. Han glanced at Minho’s wrist, eyes widening when he saw that in Minho’s hand was a small, flashing device. It must have been his method of communication with Project Argus. “Now.”

“I’ll come with you.” Chris looked over at the other detectives. “We’ll all come.”

“Not Woojin. Someone needs to stay here in case anything else is reported.” Changbin murmured. Woojin nodded at this.

“Sounds fair.” Woojin slapped Changbin’s shoulder. “Come on, sergeant, hop to it. You might find something useful.”

That was how 3Racha ended up crammed together with a frantic Minho in Changbin’s tiny car. Minho swore every five seconds, each time prompting Han to turn around raise an eyebrow at him. After the third repetition of the new routine, Han caught Minho grabbing onto Chris’ hand. He watched as Chris’ gaze softened. The Inspector took Minho’s hand in both of his, rubbing soothing circles onto Minho’s wrist. Han didn’t have the time to be jealous. If Minho was this shaken, Han knew that 3Racha should be terrified. He could never have pictured Minho coming apart like this. Minho, even when shocked, hid his emotions well.

“Mind telling us what’s going on?” Changbin’s voice was absent of the distaste it usually seemed to hold whenever he addressed Minho. Han looked over to see that Changbin looked unnerved.

“Just as you have Chan and Han, I have my own partners.” Minho was nibbling on his bottom lip. Minho caught Han’s eye and sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ve…grown too fond of them.” Minho clenched his jaw, anger flashing across his face. Han knew that the anger was self-directed. “They’re like my little brothers. I told them to stay in Korea, so I could be sure that they’d stay out of this. I knew they’d be fine if they watched from afar.”

“Project Argus.” Han muttered. “Wait – why would they be here?”

“Kwang-hoon must have sent them.” The look on Minho’s face told Han everything. Minho had been shocked that two murders had already happened. Clearly, this must have startled Kwang-hoon, as well. So he’d sent the two people closest to Minho, whom Minho had desperately wanted to protect. Han couldn’t help but wonder if this was Kwang-hoon sending…_incentive _to Minho. It made his skin crawl. “We’re here.” Minho told Changbin. The sergeant just nodded, pulling over next to the curb.

“Hannie, get my sign out, will you?” At this, Han felt laughter bubble up in his throat. Changbin’s car was unmarked, so he’d get ticketed for parking on a yellow line. So Changbin and Chris had devised a fool proof, genius system. They’d gotten hold of a large piece of cardboard and written ‘official police business’ on it. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Han couldn’t help but smile as he propped the homemade sign onto the dashboard. As soon as Changbin turned off the ignition, Minho was out the door, with Chris close behind him. Han slowly stepped out of the car, taking the time to survey the area. It was secluded. There were a few dilapidated houses and a boarded-up convenience store. Han felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. They were being watched. Minho was looking around, eyes narrowed. Han watched as Chris murmured something in Minho’s ear. Minho smiled, but didn’t relax. Han looked over at Changbin.

“Bets on who’s gonna die first?” Changbin rolled his eyes at this.

“It’s definitely going to be you, Hannie.” Han pouted at him, but Changbin just giggled and gave his shoulder a little shove.

“Minho!” A deep, unfamiliar voice met Han’s ears, and he turned to see two young men emerging from the shadows of an alleyway. One of them was blonde, the other had fading red hair. They looked to be around his own age. The blonde man was wearing black, like Minho, while his friend was wearing a beige sweater. The blonde looked quite intimidating. Meanwhile, the redhead was adorable. Han wanted to pinch his cheeks. Han watched as Minho’s eyes lit up. The two strangers practically ran at him, throwing their arms around him. There was a huge smile on Minho’s face. Han felt blinded. Seeing Minho’s smile was like seeing the sun appear from behind a cloud.

“Are you okay?” The redhead was clinging to Minho, eyes full of concern. “We were really worried about you!”

“The King said we had to come to keep an eye on you.” There was that deep voice again. Han watched as Minho’s smile melted away, and his walls returned.

“I was fine on my own, and both of you knew that.” Minho sounded stern, like he was chiding children. “There was no reason for you to come. It’s dangerous.”

“Danger is my middle name.” The blonde pushed his hair back and grinned.

“Shut up, Yongbok.” Minho jabbed him playfully. The blonde pouted at him.

“Nice to meet you, Felix, Jeongin.” Han started in surprise at Chris’ voice. A soft smile flashed across Minho’s face. The blonde’s eyes widened. He took a step closer to Chris.

“Holy shit.” The blonde’s eyes widened. “Is that…is that _Chan?_” Chris nodded slowly. Han watched as the blonde’s eyes became glossy. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you alive after so many years.” Han watched as guilt flashed across Chris’ face. He knew the Inspector was struggling to put the name to the face. “It’s me, Felix.” Chris smiled, but Han knew it was forced. Chris’ head was probably whirling again.

“Lix, the amnesia.” Minho murmured. Felix’s face fell. He looked like a kicked puppy.

“We were friends.” Felix rubbed the back of his neck. “You always looked out for me.” Chris smiled kindly at Felix.

“I’ll continue to do so.” Chris told the younger man, giving him a warm smile. Han couldn’t help but smile. It was such a typical thing for Chris to say.

“You won’t know me. I met Felix and Minho after you disappeared.” That was the redhead. Jeongin, Han assumed. “I’m I.N. Only Minho and Felix call me Jeongin.”

“My name is Yongbok, but only my bosses call me that.” Felix gave the detectives a toothy grin. “So I’d prefer if you stuck to Felix.”

“This is DC Han Jisung, and DS Seo Changbin.” Minho told his partners. Han ducked his head in greeting. Felix and I.N. exchanged a glance.

“Detectives, we might be able to help you.” Felix grinned again. “Is there somewhere that we can talk?”

* * *

In the end, they’d ended up cramming into Changbin’s car. Felix had volunteered himself for the boot, and Minho had offered to squish himself in between Chris and I.N. in the backseat. Chris’ apartment wasn’t really big enough for the six of them. But Chris had insisted on calling Woojin anyway. Woojin had had Seungmin and Hyunjin in tow. Introductions had been a bit of a mess. Woojin had been wary of Felix and Jeongin, while Minho’s partners had been equally suspicious of Woojin’s team. Chris and Minho had played peacemaker. Once the two parties were civil, Chris retreated into the kitchen.

Chris had busied himself by making coffees for everyone. As seemed to be the new norm, Minho had stuck to his side and accompanied him to the kitchen. Chris felt his mouth go dry whenever Minho’s shoulder brushed against his. The closeness came so easily with Minho. Minho’s face softened, allowing Chris to see an occasional small smile. He felt triumphant whenever he got a smile out of Minho. Chris loved Minho’s smile already. He’d never tell Minho, but whenever Minho smiled, his heart skipped a beat.

“Let’s hope they haven’t killed each other by the time we get back.” Minho murmured. Chris ogled at the amount of coffee Minho was heaping into I.N.’s mug.

“You sure he’ll be fine with all of that caffeine?” Chris murmured, and Minho laughed.

“I think he stores it all in his legs.” Minho whispered back. “The kid can’t function without it. I left him alone for a week with Felix one time. When I came back, Felix had converted him.” Chris couldn’t help but laugh at the exasperation in Minho’s voice.

“They seem like good kids.”

“They are.” Minho’s voice was fond. “Felix missed you.”

“I don’t remember him.” Chris felt his heart sink as remembered the disappointment that had flashed across Felix’s face.

“We met him a couple of years before you disappeared.”

“That explains it. I only really remember stuff from when I was quite young.”

“He followed us around like a puppy.” Minho began stirring I.N.’s coffee, a wistful smile on his face. “I thought he was annoying. I kept trying to scare him off. Then every time I’d think I’d succeeded, he’d go crying to you and you’d coddle him.” Minho laughed softly. “Then I gave up and learned to tolerate him. After about a year I told him he could consider us friends.”

“Consider?” Chris laughed again. “That sounds so typical of you, Minho.” Minho gave his shoulder a small shove.

“After you disappeared…” Minho began nibbling on his lip. “Felix helped me. I owe him a lot. He visited me in the hospital. He made sure I was eating. He made sure I would get out of bed in the morning.” Chris whistled softly.

“I know you wanted them to stay in Korea, but…I’m glad I got to meet them.” Minho nodded at this. Just as he was about to open his mouth to reply, there was a screech from the living room. Chris and Minho exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes in unison.

“I’m older than you! Therefore, I get couch rights!” That was Changbin’s voice. Chris and Minho walked into the living room, only to find utter chaos. Woojin was simply sitting in the armchair with a smile on his face, watching all of the younger men bicker back and forth over who got to sit on the couch. Changbin had his arms crossed and was scowling at Felix. “Try me.”

“Don’t test me.” Felix warned. To Chris’ utter shock, Changbin stuck his tongue out at the younger man.

“Oh yeah?” Changbin raised an eyebrow. “You have baby hands. I’d like to see you try.” Felix gave an exaggerated gasp.

“Oh dear.” Minho didn’t sound concerned in the slightest. “Changbin, it was nice knowing you.” Felix grabbed a cushion and brought it down on the top of Changbin’s head. Chris winced. Changbin let out a high-pitched squeal. Hyunjin started cackling with laughter. Chris turned to the constable and simply blinked as he observed Hyunjin falling to the floor, clutching his sides. Seungmin was poking I.N.’s dimples. The pair were making strange bird noises. Meanwhile, Han was trying to sneak past Felix onto the couch, commando crawling on the floor. Chris was reconsidering everything. Was he dealing with actual children?

“Woojin, control your constables.” But Woojin simply smiled at Chris again, seeming content to sit in the armchair and observe the ongoing chaos.

“No,” Woojin replied. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Changbin, do you surrender?” Felix had the cushion raised threateningly. Changbin was glaring at him.

“_Never._”

“Guess I’ll have to eliminate you.”

“I taught him that one.” Minho told Chris, sounding gleeful. Chris just shook his head and laughed.

“Alright, listen up!” Chris clapped his hands together. All of the men turned to look at him. Seungmin paused, mid-poke, and Felix took the opportunity to give Changbin one more whack before he dropped the cushion, giving Chris an innocent smile. “As much as I appreciate the team-bonding exercise, we _do_ have a case to solve. Changbin, Felix, Hannie, you may all have the couch.” Felix and Han high-fived, and Changbin groaned. Seungmin made Chris’ decision for him, scampering over to perch on the armchair next to Woojin. Felix patted his lap, and I.N. padded over to him.

“Hyunjin can stay on the floor, he looks pretty comfortable.” Han piped up, and Hyunjin glared at him.

“_Fine._” It was quite possibly the most dramatic sigh Chris had ever heard. “Pass me the cushion, Felix.” He yelped when Felix threw it at him.

“Should I assume that we’re all acquainted, now?” Chris asked. His team looked around at each other and nodded. “Excellent.”

“Here’s where the case stands. We have two numbers, and we have two bodies. We only have one killer, and he’s not in custody.”

“Not yet.” That was Felix. He looked quite smug. Chris watched as Minho narrowed his eyes.

“Felix, what did you do?” Minho rubbed his temples.

“Jeongin and me found him. We know where he’s hiding.” Chris’ eyes widened. “He’s underground.” Chris couldn’t help but smile. So he’d been right.

“I have a theory about the numbers.” That was Seungmin. “I think they’re letters. I think it’s quite a basic code, if I’m being honest. It’s lazy. But I guess they’ve been fairly conspicuous so far.”

“Well done, Seungmin.” Woojin gave the constable an approving glance.

“I think the only hard part will be trying to decipher if each number represents a letter, or if the numbers keep increasing. So say, Z will equal twenty-six, but fifty-two will also mean Z.” Chris nodded in understanding. “So far, seventy-two could either mean G and B. Divided by three, it gives us twenty-four. That would give us X.” Changbin gave a low whistle.

“Woojin, I think you should let step down and let Seungmin be the Inspector. Well done, kid.” Seungmin just shrugged.

“It wasn’t that hard. And it’s just a theory.”

“We know everything that Minho does.” Felix added. “He reports to our taskforce, which includes Jeongin and me. So we know all the details on the murders.”

“I’m not sure if that makes me feel any better.” Changbin muttered.

“While all of you were out investigating Hale’s death, I found some dirt on Tailor.” Minho told them. Chris watched Minho with interest. “Tailor was a thief, despite living quite comfortably.”

“But we did a background check on him.” Han looked confused. “Nothing came up.”

“Exactly. Nothing would have come up. On the official records, that is.” Minho’s eyes flashed. “Good thing Tailor has a brother-in-law in CID.” Chris’ eyes widened in shock. He watched as Minho smirked. “Your very own Superintendent.” Chris swore under his breath. So that’s why Ivory had been so affected by Tailor’s death!

“He didn’t tell me.” Chris murmured, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“Exactly. If you went digging around a little more, and news of Tailor’s thefts ever got out, who would everyone look at first?”

“Relatives in the police force.” Changbin finished, running his hands through his hair. “And Ivory’s reputation would be damaged.” Changbin groaned. “This is a fucking mess.”

“Wait a minute…” Han was nibbling on his bottom lip. “Didn’t you say Hale was skimming money?” The realisation hit Chris like a freight train.

“That’s it.” Minho looked like he’d been electrocuted. “Jeongin, Felix, I need you to get me every detail of the last twelve victims. Tell Kwang-hoon he can’t hide any criminal history from us. We need to know _everything._”

“You think Kwang-hoon knew that most of the victims were petty criminals, but hid it from you?” Han’s brows were creased together in confusion.

“To be honest, I don’t think we’ll find anything.” Jeongin’s voice was soft. “Most of them probably paid Kwang-hoon to completely erase all evidence of their crimes.” Jeongin’s lips were pursed together. “When Kwang-hoon gets rid of evidence, unless you knew what had happened in the first place, no one would be able to find anything. If you’re paying to make your crimes disappear, you don’t want any higher power with a super computer to find it. If you pay Kwang-hoon to make something disappear, he’ll do it properly.”

“He probably didn’t even remember who half of them were.” Felix laughed bitterly. “While they would have practically sold their souls to him to stay out of jail.” He rested his chin on Jeongin’s shoulder, frowning.

“It could be a coincidence.” Woojin murmured, but Minho vehemently shook his head.

“We’ve always thought that there was a pattern. This is the first time we’ve found something concrete.”

“Were the letters always different, for each victim?” That was Hyunjin. Minho nodded.

“Mostly. There were always two Gs. But there was always an S, an L, an R, and a P.”

“Maybe it’s an acronym.” Hyunjin murmured. Seungmin snorted.

“The only combinations I can think of sound stupid.” Hyunjin stuck his tongue out at the other constable.

“You’re stupid.” Hyunjin shot back.

“Don’t call me stupid, stupid.”

“I called you stupid first!”

“Hyunjin, please.” That was Woojin. Seungmin gave Hyunjin a smirk from his perch next to Woojin.

“We’ll call lock-up and go and catch our rat.” Chris looked over at Minho, who nodded his approval. “Hyunjin, Seungmin – did you get anything from Roberts?” Hyunjin stopped his staring contest with Seungmin and sat up straight, clearly eager to impress. “She said Lara was looking for another job and that she had been acting weird the past few days. Apparently the night of the murder, they were meant to have their monthly movie night.” Changbin snickered at this, but Hyunjin was serious. “They’ve been doing it for two years. Neither of them have missed one. Millie thought it was weird. But she didn’t go over to check, because she was annoyed at Lara for blowing her off.”

“She must have been pretty pissed.” Changbin mused. “My first instinct would be to go and check up on them.” Seungmin just shrugged at this.

“She was really worried when Hale didn’t turn up to work.” Seungmin continued. “And then she found Hale dead.” Seungmin leaned against Woojin’s shoulder. “Hale didn’t have any family in the area. Neither did Tailor. I checked.”

“The witness in Tailor’s case didn’t add anything special. Completely random.” Woojin began. “But he said that he was surprised the killer didn’t run as soon as he saw he was being watched.”

“Was he going to attack the witness, maybe?” Felix was rubbing his chin in thought.

“Not their style.” Minho was shaking his head. “All of this…was deliberate.”

“You think maybe the killer has a message, or something?” Changbin leaned forwards, eyes widening. “That would explain why he just left his coat behind. You think it was planted, maybe?”

“Why do they _want _to be caught, anyway?” Seungmin mused.

“To send a message.” Chris murmured, his stomach churning. “They know they’re untouchable. They’re letting the world know that they can just throw evidence everywhere without getting caught.”

“It’s a game.” Minho muttered, his dark eyes stormy. His face was an icy mask. “Leaving little letters, playing with the corpses, running circles around us – it’s a display of power.”

“No one’s more powerful than Kwang-hoon.” I.N.’s voice wavered as he spoke, despite the false bravado. “We’ll catch him, Minho.”

“I hope so.” Minho looked up, meeting Chris’ eyes. Chris felt a chill run down his spine. “We have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from Maze of Memories.
> 
> me: i'll start it after classes finish and all i have to do is study -  
my brain: are you sure about that
> 
> fun fact! argus was a hundred-eyed monster from greek mythology. hera used him to guard the nymph io.
> 
> i hope this hasn't become too convoluted too soon. this chapter was pretty much the last of the exposition. all the boys are here, they all have a purpose, and i really really hope i've explained the last few important details before more action takes place. this may be too wordy or overzealous to have put all this in one chapter but i really hope you enjoy it. un-beta'd, we die like men here, so i hope it isn't too all over the place with errors and grammar and stuff.
> 
> see you in november, maybe december. i'll see how i go. thank you for reading, it means a lot. i have no idea which other pairings i should have apart from minchansung so let me know if you have any suggestions.


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